Nocturnal
by KKDollZ
Summary: ...the fear of death has never entered my heart before. I wouldn't mind suffering at the hands of death for him; he who I would die for time after time if I had to. I would in no way be able to continue living in a world where he didn't exist in.'
1. Preface

** Disclaimer: **I don't own L&O: SVU or any of its characters, it/they belong to Dick Wolf/NBC. This story is just meant for entertainment purposes and I am not making any profit out of this nor do I intend to. It's all in good fun.

Yeah, so, um, Mariska didn't win that SAG Award (and on her B-Day, nonetheless. At least, she can say she looked better than Juliana. Now, I;m no Joan Rivers, but, uh, sorry, Juliana; Mariska did look beautiful in Vera Wang) but it;s whatever. Next time Mariska, it;ll be yours. Having said that, Juliana did deserve that SAG Award and Golden Globe. She does an amazing portrayal in The Good Wife, yes, I love that show, BUT, I am Team Hargitay though. I admire Mariska Hargitay as both an actress and person, I mean how can you not, she;s a generous human being.

Okay, so anyway, this is my first attempt at a L&O:SVU fan fiction. I've been working on it for quite some time now, so much so that I even neglected my first fan fiction, but I;ve been working on that first one this last week, so, it;ll be updated too and soon, well, when I approve that it is somewhat decent by my standards. Yes, I am my own harshest critic, so, I am only going to post the preface of this SVU fan fiction even though I;ve already written a few chapters, it;s just a matter of uploading it if the readers are intrigued by this story and want to know the outcome of it, which by the way I think it;s going to be a seven series story but I;m still undecided. But hey, even if no one what's to know, I do, so I may not post them but I'll continue writing. But if you do, don't hesitate to let me know. I'll gladly post the chapters up. Okay so, constructive criticism is always welcomed, so here it is for all readers to dissect.

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**Preface**

Over the course of time I'd had more than enough time to think about how I would die in this line of work; after all, I had reason enough in the last years of my career-though I'd had time on my side to think, I would never have fabricated it like this.

I faced forward reminding myself how to breath correctly across the other side of the cramped alley, into the gentle eyes of the prey, the cold eyes of the predator and he looked gratifyingly back at me and my partner-enjoying the predicament unfolding right before him-obviously.

I couldn't help but trace back in time to a moment when Elliot had once made hurtful comments against me, 'No, I can't do this anymore. I can't be looking over my shoulder making sure you're okay. I need to know you can do your job and not wait for me to come to the rescue.' I now know that his words held, well, hold some truth to them, they had to; otherwise, neither of us would be anxiously awaiting on death now.

I stared into his gentle, pleading, ocean-blue eyes one more time. I knew exactly what he wanted out of me but I couldn't bring myself to comply with his demands. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I allowed him to make the decision for me, for him-for us.

I wanted desperately for him to leave and not have a leading role in this act because he had everything to lose and I had nothing to gain. I would be able to come to terms with death, the fear of death has never entered my heart before. I wouldn't mind suffering at the hands of death for him; he who I would die for time after time if I had to. I would in no way be able to continue living in a world where he didn't exist in. His presence has become vital to my survival, he is the only meaningful person in my life left worth living-though I would never admit that to him or anyone else for that matter.

Life has rendered me with his luminescent embodiment of life, bestowing upon me his radiant care, protection, and friendship. My heart with love for him is filled but soon its beating will be stilled. I will not shed a tear, I will not drown in sorrow, and I will not surrender to grief because even death can't take away my memories.

The predator smiled at us venomously as he cocked the steely gun forward to invite death.


	2. Full Moon

**Disclaimer: **I don't own L&O: SVU or any of its characters, it/they belong to Dick Wolf/NBC. This story is just meant for entertainment purposes and I am not making any profit out of this nor do I intend to. It's all in good fun.

**A/N:** I know I said I wouldn't update another chapter until I was sure the readers wanted to read more but I couldn't resist, I just had to post the first chapter. This chapter was inspired by The Black Ghost's Full Moon. Anyways, hope you like this chapter and I would definitely like to hear what you guys think of the portrayal of the characters. Yay or Nay??? So that I can modify them to stay true to the characters on TV.

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**Any transition serious enough to alter your definition of self will require not just small adjustments in your way of living and thinking but a full-on metamorphosis.**

**- Martha Beck**

**Full Moon**

St-Dana and I drove to the JFK airport in a black SUV with tinted windows. The dark of the night in New York was so in sync with the licorice black of the tinted windows, I could barely make out the glowing appearance of the full moon glistening up in the sky.

"Ms. Benson," Dana said to me. "Would you like me to turn on the heater? You look cold."

I was wearing my black, faux fur-trim, hooded, quilted down jacket by Michael Kors that Casey had given me on my last birthday. The jacket did an extraordinary job at keeping me warm, but today New York was exceptionally arctic, leaving me merciless in the sight of the cold. No matter the amount of time I spend in New York, I can never quite get used to its wintry climate. I hadn't made a secret of my distaste for cold, bleak, freezing weather, so of course everyone in hearing distance would have to listen about it to no avail. Elliot is always the one to catch the brunt of it though-and he always gives me the same verbose response, _'just unavoidable'_, but not this time.

"Yes, please." I answered back.

She blasted the heater to its highest potential and the warm air quickly brushed across my exposed skin. The warm air against my skin caused me to remember the times when I would vacation in California during the summer-in the early years of my childhood anyway. I love to feel the fervent shine of light the sun emits upon my olive-skin and hate the constant frost-nips sustained from the freezing conditions; I've always been very sensitive to the cold.

I wonder if Oregon will be any milder on me when it comes to its weather? _'You'll love Oregon, it's very lovely this time_ _of__ year__.__'_, is what Dana said to me when I asked where I had been reassigned to. I'm sure she and I have very different definitions of _lovely_. She also mentioned Oregon being rainy this time of year but very temperate in its winters. I'm not very fond of the rain either, but I guess, I'll just have to endure it because Portland, Oregon is where I now exiled myself to.

I gulped down the rest of my coffee and let the balmy liquid engulf all my senses. The warmth of the coffee caused me to instinctively seal my eyes and reminisce about what my life used to be and exactly what point in my life things started to make a turn for the worse.

I could feel my mind racing at the speed of light, squirming about in the distant depths of my memory, searching for some acumen elucidation. I was being bombarded with flashing images that I had concealed willingly in the realms of abstraction.

No!

I couldn't be reliving these memories over again-not now, not ever.

No!

_Flashback.._.

The plan was set in motion. There was no reason for things to go amiss; certainly not with law enforcement officers surrounding the whole canvas simultaneously.

"He's coming at you. No kids." I heard Fin say.

"Ryan and Rebecca have to be around here somewhere." I quipped back from my standing position in the phone booth station.

"Fin, look for those kids." Elliot ordered.

I looked around endlessly for Ryan and Rebecca within my assigned perimeter, but, no such luck.

But then out of nowhere I spotted Gitano from a distance. I knew he was on to us by the way his whole body language shouted _"suspicious__"_ in flashing neon lights. Gitano may have been dumb but not stupid.

"He's running!" I yelled, into the earpiece, breaking into a sprint of my own after him.

The George Washington Bridge Bus Terminal was an infestation of human bodies; more so than any other day, even. I pushed and shoved unintentionally, trying to make my way through the crowd and get to Gitano as soon-as was humanly possible.

I lost him in plain sight. _We_ lost him in plain sight.

"You see him?" Elliot asked me.

"No." I answered quickly.

"Split up." He commanded more than suggested.

"Yeah." I nodded before communicating with Fin through earpiece and informing him that Gitano made us for cops and was on the run.

I ran a marathon through every twist and turn of the Bus Terminal in search of this cretin psychopath and then as if on cue, he reappeared on scene; however, not alone this time around.

I reached for my gun and paced forward in his direction. I could feel my adrenaline making its presence known. It coursed through my veins like a junkie high on heroin. The erratic screams and yelps of the civilians around me sent my brain on overload.

I focused on Gitano and the innocent little girl at his mercy in attempts to reign my attention back on track. I ordered him to still in position, he retaliated by leaping forward to slit my throat. I panicked after that and everything became a blur. My body slamming hard onto the floor as a result.

I heard _his_ worried cries and felt his urgent arms rapidly secure me in his strong embrace. It took me a couple of seconds to concentrate on his masculine form because I could have sworn I died for a couple of minutes. I centered on his breezy-blue eyes and knew at that moment that I would be fine, so I demanded that he leave my side and continue on the hunt for Gitano. He seemed apprehensive at first but eventually complied with my pleas.

I remained on the floor, watching his figure blend in with the crowd and retrieve into the distance.

"Ma'am, are you okay?" The young man rushed to his words out, kneeling down next to me.

Uh, let me think...NO! A maniac on the loose, carrying two bewildered children just tried to 86 me, but, I'm fine, thanks for your consideration.

"I'm fine." I said through my nomadic gasps for air.

"Are you sure?" He examined me more closely, "You don't look so hot. I'm calling an ambulance."

"It's already on its way, young man." An elderly woman informed him.

I'm going to be fine," I objected. "Trust me. I'm an officer, I know this stuff."

I tried sitting up but the young, blond man insisted I stay down.

"I mean this with all respect when I say, just because you're an authority figure of the law, doesn't mean you're a certified medic." He have my wound another check and flinched a tiny bit. "You don't even know the extent of your own injury at question. Trust me. I'm Irish and by the look of things, you weren't so lucky." The young _'Irish' _man remarked.

"I know I'm not dead and still breathing. Besides, I think I know my own body enough to know that I'm okay." I protested, irritably.

"That's just the injury talking. Your state of well being is for a Doctor to decide. You're way in and out of your head, lady."

I ignored his comments and resumed to standing up.

"Hey, hey, hey! Stop, what are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" I eyed him incredulously.

"Here-" he slipped my left arm over his neck and wrapped his right arm around my waist. "If you're not going to listen to reason, at least, let me help you up."

I took his help and removed myself from his hold when I was sure I could stand on my own. "See. Perfectly stable."

I placed my gun in its holster before returning to acknowledge the group of people that had gathered around me. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got business to attend to."

I moved swiftly through the platform until I heard my name being called.

"Ms. Benson." They said, repeatedly.

I turned every which way possible, seeking for the source of the voice, but everyone had returned to normal as if nothing had occurred. It was difficult putting a face or a moving body to its matching voice.

"Ms. Benson!" They called out-again.

I spun around to quickly, wafting the sickening scent. I swallowed convulsively, my stomach elevating in revolution. The rusty, iron, salty aroma of my blood was rotting my filtered air passing through my nostrils. My mind tumbling like Nastia Liukin in the Olympics. The aftermath of the wound finally catching up to me. For some inexplicable, strange reason the sight and smell of my own blood is very nauseating and appalling to me. I need to get a hold of Elliot and get the hell out of here before I lose conscious as a result of this repulsive odor.

"Elliot!" I shouted, "Elliot, where are you?"

"Elliot's dead, Olivia." Fin pointed out, as if I should know, appearing out of thin air.

"What are you talking about?" I say, mystified.

"I'm saying just that. He died trying to save you!" He voiced in a harsh tone, pointing a finger in my face.

Normally I would have told him not to point his finger in my face, but I'm guessing, he did it on purpose since he knows how much I dislike that gesture. I tried not to role my eyes and ignored his actions.

"No," I shook my head in disbelief. "That's impossible!"

"Nothing's impossible in this workforce and you should know that better than anyone else. This was your fault anyway, so stop with the act because it doesn't suit you any."

"No!" I shout in denial, clutching my right hand around my neck harder and adding to the grief already penetrating my neck. "When he left he was very much alive. He left in search of Gitano, where is he-where's Gitano? Did you arrest him? Chances are if we locate Gitano we can find Elliot. Gitano's the key to unlocking all doors, let's go."

I grab his arm with my free hand to move him at my pace, but he doesn't move an inch and just pulls his arm back to his side.

"He got away! Where have you been? Stop acting like a damn fool, it's getting more pathetic by the passing of the seconds." He hollered, angrily. "If you had stop playing possum, the outcome of the situation would have been different." He shoved pass me.

"Fin, wait! Where are you going?"

He stopped dead in his tracks.

"Just give me a chance to explain, Fin, please." I say, sincerely.

"Explain what? How you ruined Gitano's ambush and got Elliot killed along the way? You might as well have slid that blade across his neck yourself. Some great partner you are." He spat the last sentence with even more venom.

"You're lying!" I yell-in his already angered face, not bothering to wipe or conceal the tears streaming down my cheeks. Elliot wasn't dead, he couldn't be. Fin was lying to me. Why? I'm not sure.

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that." He looked at me disgustingly. "I'm through with you, we all are." He walked away, fading within the moving sea of bodies.

The tears continued to stream down endlessly like a river, furiously across my face. How could this be? It couldn't! He was wrong, he had to be wrong. No way can Elliot Stabler be dead.

I'd find him, I'm the only who can. Fin will have no choice but to shove his words back down is throat. Things couldn't end like this, not for us, not with an ending from a finished dreaded, grim...fairy tale.

"Elliot!" I sprint in a dash, doing my best at dodging the bodies in the midst of motion. "Elliot!"

"Hey," someone unknown clasped my shoulder, shaking gruffly. "Wake up! ."

_End Flashback_

I flutter my eyes open, trying to catch my breath.

"Where is Elliot?" I say, in between unregistered breaths.

"Um," Dana glances at the green digital numbers on the radio clock. "I'm guessing at home-asleep. Which you of all people should probably know that since you were his partner for roughly around," she stops talking, critically thinking inside her head. "seven years, give-or-take, right? In addition, the fact that he wasn't at the precinct when we boxed your belongings, should have been a sign."

"Yeah, I suppose." I spoke, barely an octave higher than a whisper. I was sure she wouldn't have heard had she not been in so close of a proximity to me.

I could still hear her words echoing, rotating inside my head when she said,_ 'you were his partner'_. It's like she delivered a stab wound to my chest every time her words rewired. Each stabbed wound more painful than the one before. Yes, I know it was unintentional and she meant no harm, but still.

"Why'd you ask?" She restarted the ignition, bringing the SUV back to life and driving off the side of the road.

I was clueless to what she meant by the double meaning in her question, unsure of which direction to stir in and what answer she'd really want and expect out of me. Dana was just so random at times and unpredictable when it comes to her lucrative, uncensored behavior. I must admit however, her spontaneous nature can be very animating...

"What do you mean, asked what?"

"About Elliot," she stated, flatly. "Why'd you ask where he was knowing throughly well where he could or could not be?"

Dana, Dana, Dana, what ever are you wanting to know?

"I was just having a nightmare," I paused, almost expecting her to contradict me. "A very vivid, strikingly all-to-real nightmare. I just...I guess, I just wanted to hear from your mouth that he was doing okay; to confirm it was a nightmare. Nothing more to it, really."

"Oh, I see." She nodded, understandingly. Her big, bright-eyes still glued to the road ahead.

I sighed, running my fingers through my hair, silently thankful that this somewhat awkward-for-me conversation was over, done, finite.

I continued to stare bleakly out the window, frowning at the sight in front of me. New York seemed occult and ill-lighted, not even the big city lights could penetrate the profound morbid night to shed some light in the celestial sphere. New York was in mourning, wearing its darkest shade of sullen gloom as a farewell to me-Olivia Benson, former Detective of the 1-6 precinct in Manhattan's SVU. In a twisted, sadistic, demented way I was glad that New York was cheerless tonight, reflecting every visible angle of every fiber of my being onto the perimeters of New York.

"I just...are you-" she struggled internally to find the appropriate words, "Because sometimes it seems, well, to me, I can't really speak for everyone else...it seems as if...well, are you?"

...while other times her spontaneous nature can be so very, well, non-animating but unwelcoming. I mentally kicked myself for thinking this conversation could be over, done, finite. This is Dana I'm talking about, she never let's go. Never knows when to stop meddling.

She cast a crooked glance at me for a nano of a second, expecting some sort of answer.

"Dana, I was never very good at Wheel of Fortune, so why don't you start all over and this time don't forget to plug in the vowels." I say, masking my irritation.

"I mean-" she breathed, "No, just forget it."

"Too late. What is it?"

"No, forget it. It's not of my concern."

She was backing off, a first if I may add. I would have acted like a proud mother regarding her working progress, but she had ignited my curiosity and it was now shifting into fourth gear. I hope she didn't think so little of me as to drop the subject that easily, especially, with my curiosity getting the best of me.

I gasp, placing a hand on my chest, and glancing seriously at Dana. "Okay, now I'm concerned. When is it never your business to get involved?"

"Ha, Ha, Ha. Hilarious." She glared, briefly.

"Okay, all joking aside, What's not of your concern?"

"Anything that doesn't pertain to me."

"I don't recall you using those exact words, of which you speak of to me now, when you waltzed into the squad room a couple of days ago."

"Really? Because I recall differently." She opposed.

I nod, "Of course you would. Who is it pertaining to then?"

She shrugs her shoulders.

"Someone I know?" I add, becoming more intrigued. Wait...she said, _'you'_ as in me. Of course, of course! This would explain her hesitation.

"This is about me, isn't it?" I'm exasperated now. What does she think? What does she know? What has she heard?

Silence is her only response. She doesn't even look at me.

"Dana, tell me now." I demand, softly.

She takes her time but finally answers, "Yes, it is."

"She's alive!" I pitch in, dramatically.

"Would you stop with the theatricals. How much coffee have you had anyway?" She gave me a suspicious glance.

I met her glance with a scowling expression. "So, what about me?"

She opened her mouth to speak and I waited with bated breath. "Well, what do you know, we're here." She signaled to the airport.

Not exactly the response I hoped or waited for. "Dana, no. You will not continue to dismiss the question." I sternly look at her.

She sighed slowly, removing the keys from the ignition, trying to relax in her seat.

"It's silly, really." She turned to face me. "Not worth bringing it up, let alone talk about it."

"Go on." I coax her to continue.

"Okay, but don't over exaggerate. Promise?"

"I don't know."

"Olivia." She stared, intently.

"Fine. You win. I won't." I raise my hands in defeat.

"I thought that maybe, I repeat _maybe_," she speaks slowly and with emphasize on the second maybe. "That you felt something more for Elliot than just friendship."

OH MY GOD! HA, UH, NO!

"What!" I laugh hysterically.

"You see, silly. I told you." She unbuckles her seat-belt.

I stop my fits of laughter, retract my seatbelt as well, and reach for her arm before she's able to leap out the SUV.

"No," I shake my head, "no, no, no."

"I know. That's why I didn't push you into answering and shoving me out of doubt. Ludicrous, I get it." She simply states.

"I mean, I don't even look at him that way. No, it's absurd."

I hope she doesn't interpret my response as in denial because I'm not. I'm not in denial at all, I have no reason to be. He's just a friend, my best friend at that. Just friends, that's what we are both he and I. Friends. Nothing more, nothing less. Although, after this little stunt, who knows where we'll stand now.

"Right. Of course." She agrees, almost genuinely. The smallest hint of disbelief betraying her voice.

"Wait," I shake my head, numerously. As if to flitter cobwebs from my short honey-chestnut hair. "Where is this supposition coming from?"

She jumps out the SUV and heads for the trunk. I follow on her trail seconds later.

"Why do you want to know?" She hands me my only suitcase and duffel bag.

I was only allowed a suitcase. They had said the duffel bag was already exceeding the limit, but hey, they need me more than I need them; therefore, my rules and expectations hold far more supremacy.

"I thought this conversation was over and done with now that you've said what needed to be said." She closes the trunk door, exhaling a puffy cloud of air due to the cold in the atmosphere.

"Humor me." I squint my eyes, glaring, tilting my head sideways.

"Well, it could be encouraged by how you always bring him up in any and every conversation being had. I have to commend you on your ingenious nature though. The way you engineer talk and incorporate Elliot into them, it's very innovative." She smiles, slyly, in approval. "It could be the way you look at him with those big goo-goo eyes of yours when you think no one is watching, but really they are, pretending not to. You should really try to give others more credit, . The way you walk a little faster just to get next to him. The way your smile radiates waves brighter than the sun when he looks or speaks to you. Oh, and lets's not forget the countless times you apply that shimmy-shimmy lip gloss just to impress him. You see were I'm going with this?"

Munch! She had to be conversing with John Munch! Who else could have implicated so many scenarios and theories. When I see John again...I'm going to wire his jaw shut and make it my personal mission to tarnish his reputation. I'm going to enjoy sending him to the unforgiving ruins, cursing him to the fiery pits of Tartarus and watch joyously as the Titans devour him alive.

"First, it's guava-gold lip gloss and I do not wear it to impress him or anyone else for that matter. Second, I do not bring him up in every conversation. Third, I'm a naturally happy person, God forbid I smile radiantly at anyone or anything. Fourth, you need to stop associating with John Munch, it's for your own good, trust me. Lastly, stop with your lies. Anyone that doesn't know you will believe everything coming out of your mouth."

This is ridiculous. I'm a grown woman, I shouldn't have to defend myself upon other peoples' malicious accusations. Especially, not from the prying culprit Munch.

"Okay, fine! Maybe I do like to exaggerate the truth a tiny smudge." She admitted, but lying a bit through her self revelation. She heard me scoff under my breath and opted to correct her mistake. "Okay, I exaggerate the truth by a lot. Are you happy now?"

"Very."

"So now that that's settled and you've calmed, relaxed, and taught yourself how to breath again, is it safe to say that I was just trying to rattle you up. It was all in good fun and I meant no harm by it."

She seems to be sincere about it but I know that there is still some truth behind her previous assumptions. How could some small part of her honestly believe that I-Olivia Benson, could possibly see Elliot as more than just a friend? How could she entertain the idea in her head? Me? Having some sort of high school crush on Elliot Stabler? Please, as if.

"Come on," she elbows my ribs gently, "I seriously was only kidding. Don't you believe me?"

I silently shrug my shoulders and avert my attention elsewhere, into the all consuming night.

I had already forgiven her but I still wanted her to squirm for seconds longer. I don't know how much more I can take of peoples' insinuations revolving around Elliot's and my partnership and friendship relationship. It started off as just _one_ joke said by _one_ person and then suddenly, everyone is the main event act in the Comedy Strip. Who knows, maybe I do over react when it comes to the subject but just because they laugh it off and end it by proclaiming that they are _'just kidding'_, doesn't excuse it or make it a sparing joke in my book. So forgive me, if I lost my sense of humor along the way in these last couple of months, and as if things couldn't get any worse all it takes now is just one comment to set me on edge. Kathy does not take too kindly to me already; at least, from what I can read off her. Her sometimes venomous glares give me reason to believe she holds me responsible to some extent for their _somewhat_ failed marriage. Perhaps if not so many people and things were in jeopardy in the midst of all their jokes, then a low quantity of a ratio in a fraction in me could laugh their jokes off with them. Subsequently, the chances of that happening are slim to none, so until then, I'll still find their jokes distasteful.

"You see, it's that silence that perturbs me-"

"Dana, I was contemplating on whether to believe you. Don't make me regret my decision."

"What makes you think I was headed for that direction?" She says, trying to strain me away from my earlier suspect-fullness. "You know what happens when you assume, right? You make an ass out of u and me.

I smirk innocently back at her, wishing I could wipe her grin off with Windex.

"Oh, before i forget, put this on." She hands me a puke, mustard-green jacket.

"Uh, no thanks," I pat my Michael Kors jacket, "I'm fine."

"Yeah, well, the point is to blend in as one of theirs." She shoves the jacket in my hands, motioning me to switch, "That jacket you're wearing will only cause you to stand out and be singled out as a non-eco friendly activist."

"Newsflash, Dana. It's freezing out here. We wouldn't want me to catch a cold or worse." I shivered, thinking about the cold made my teeth shatter in anticipation of feeling its icy fingers around my slender frame in a tight embrace.

Dana swayed her head to give my luggage a once-over. "Although-"

"Your Louis Vuitton Alzer suitcase and matching duffel bag will do that for you; they speak for themselves." Expressed the male voice in the background, finishing Dana's sentence.

"You speak Louis Vuitton?" Dana tried stifling a laugh.

"On occasion." He tipped his head ever so slightly, one was sure to miss it if they blinked. "It's been a while. Lovely to see you again, Dana."

"Likewise." They enveloped in a brief, friendly hug.

He took a step back, sizing me up and down, taking in my appearance.

I could feel myself flushing some shade of red in embarrassment. I've always disliked people staring at me for way too long. Especially the way he did. His eyes held annoyance, agitation, apprehension, and a tiny hint of amusement. My body stiffened, letting the uncomfortable feeling set in.

"So, where'd you find fashionista Barbie? Shopping in the boutiques of New York's Fifth Avenue or Beverly Hill's Rodeo Drive?" He grinned, widely from coast-to-coast.

My previous uncomfortable embarrassment was washed away by a rising tide of anger. An anger that I fought to keep in check. I did not want to show this man the riot his words caused in me.

He seems to think that I'm a superficial, materialistic woman and he's wrong. He's wrong because there is more to me than what meets the eye. The material things in life don't make me or define who I am.

I am lucky to have been blessed with the trust funds my mother and god parents have entitled me with. To say it was both a shock and a surprise to me is a severe understatement.

I know deep down in my heart-of-hearts that my mom did love me or tried to-it was a valued effort, but when I was young I could never understand her inability to love me; however, when I reached the rightful age did I only understand-completely. It lowered the tension between us less than a little tiny bit. Her revelation still didn't do much to change my opinion about myself. It still feels that way, it refuses to leave, lurking among me like a shadow. It's like that feeling, that part of me is destined to be my loyal companion, my crucifix.

Her insight also explained her undying insistence, when I was young, that I spend every summer until I was seven with my god parents, Peter and Lorraine Vanderbilt, in one of their homes located in West Hollywood. Lorraine Vanderbilt was an heiress socialite and Peter Vanderbilt a billionaire. They never had any children. As a toddler I'd always asked aunt Lorraine (as I would call her) if she'd ever want to be a mommy and she'd reply, _'But honey, I'm already a mommy_.' She'd then clasp my face in her delicate, velvet hands, placing a tender kiss on my forehead, _'I'm like a second mommy to you and you like a daughter to me-to us. You fill both uncle Peter and I with so much love and joy in our hearts. More than words could ever describe.'_, being so young and naive, I didn't catch the real meaning behind her words until many years later. She was infertile. They died in an unfortunate car accident six months after my seventh birthday, but their memories live on in my heart alongside my mother's.

I still haven't a clue as how my mother intertwined paths with them and became close family friends. It remains a mystery, she never liked to talk about her past; therefore, I know nothing about the person she once used to be but only the person she was after her incident-her rape. I dared not ask uncle Peter and Aunt Lorraine for fear of what I might uncover. If there was ever any debate on who knew the real Serena Benson, they would settle all open arguments, no doubt that they could single-handedly place the missing puzzle pieces that were Serena Benson, the missing puzzle pieces that all the King's horses and all the King's men couldn't place back together again.

Due to it all, I chose to live a lie as a child, pretending that my reality was far from-my reality. I put up impenetrable walls around me, painted them in false pretenses so that world outside me could never judge me for my true colors. Having said that however, there were the lucky few who made it pass the walls. The lucky few being Don, John, Fin, and Casey, but even what they know about me fails to reach the status of knowledge Elliot reigns above them and anyone who has ever come across me over the span of my life thus far. He's the only person who's made it pass the impenetrable walls, concrete bulldozers, and the three-headed watch dog, Cerberus, who lives at the end of the confusing and complicated maze that is my life. It guards my heart, locked inside a lost treasure chest, hiding in the pits of oblivion. Elliot is the only recipient of the key to my heart, he knows everything about me worth knowing-even the parts I'd rather forget. Everything-the only exception being the part that I'm a trust fund baby. I wouldn't want him or anyone else to look at me or treat me differently because of it. I've worked hard to built the life that I always wanted for myself and they make me feel normal. Normal in the sense that around them I don't feel like a product of rape, that there is no glitch in me, that I was brought up in a loving-normal household.

I faintly hear _that_ _man_ still complaining about me to Dana with his clever commentary. The sound of his vexatious voice irritates my ears and brings me back to the present.

I return back his grin with demur. "Listen, I don't know who you are or think you are, but I do know that you will not-"

"Okay, okay," Dana steps in between us and shoves both of us back a step or two. She keeps a hand pressed against each of us to hold us in place. "Let's all just calm down and take a deep breath."

I would not have realized I had been standing in front of him, raising my voice mere inches from his face had Dana not stepped in as referee. How could I have allowed my anger to get the best of me?

"Now, why don't we just start all over, since apparently we've all seem to have started off on the wrong foot." Dana suggested. "Now how about it?"

He and I both stood unmoved from our original stance, glaring at one another.

"Okay, I'll start." Dana announced, exasperated. "This is FBI Special Agent, Dean Porter. Dean, this is Manhattan's-"

Dean scoffed when she mentioned 'Manhattan's and Dana shot him a death glare, then cleared her throat.

"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, Manhattan's SVU Detective Olivia Benson. Dean, you remember when we discussed 's collaboration, right?"

She tapped her foot on the ground impatiently, waiting for his response. I guess she wasn't playing when she wanted us to start again with the proper and much expected formalities.

"Of course." He answered in sugarcoated sweetness.

"You remember what I said concerning Dean's role in this case, right?" She turned to me next.

"No." I reveal, truthfully. I don't remember ever discussing a _Dean Porter_.

"It must have been one of the many times you zoned out on me, but it's okay because you'll have plenty of time to get to know each other more throughly." She sighed, "That should be fun."

Dana lifted a palm to her cheek and shook her head.

"What?" Dean verbalized.

"This is the part where you two shake hands." She replied.

"Let's just get this over with." He extends his arm.

I stared down at his hand and roll my eyes.

"You know, today would be great." He let out.

I was growing tired of this game myself, so I extended my arm as well until our hands meet.

"_Joy_ to meet you." He squeezed my hand tightly, "Looking forward to working with you."

My breath caught in my throat when I felt the pressure of his grip. I pulled back and he squeezed tighter, drawing back my hand and myself forth to him. He grinned _his_ stupid grin at me again when he felt me struggling to free myself. Our actions emitting curious glances from Dana.

In the middle of it all, I managed to pinch on of his long, rough fingers and he instantly discharged my hand.

"Yes, it should be interesting." I return his grin with one of my own.

He chose to ignore my gesture, instead turning to Dana and taking the jacket I had returned earlier on, from her arm. I took this time to wiggle my fingers, regaining circulation to them, stopping when he shoved the jacket in my hands.

"Hurry up and put this on before we're late."

"Jeez, rude much." I unzip my own jacket, feeling the cold air encircle around me. Quickening my rate, I shrug my jacket off, letting it slide from me and slipping the other one on just as fast.

"You had layers and layers of clothing underneath your jacket and you were still complaining about the wintry atmosphere." Dana observes.

I shrug my shoulders, handing her my jacket.

"Michael Kors," she notices the tag, "I can understand the hesitation now."

"Dana, it's not about the designer. I'm sensitive to the cold and that particular jacket keeps me warm. My only hesitation came from the feel of the raw chill, honestly. Also, that jacket was a gift," I added. "Casey gave me it on a birthday."

"No worries, I'll take good care of it for you."

"Thank you." I barely get a chance to say when Dean grabs my right shoulder, turning me around, gently prompting me onward.

"Move along." He instructs. "Until next time, Dana."

"Later, Dean. I'll see you soon, and best of luck to you, ."

I shrug his hand off me and stop. "Dana," I whip in a semi-circle to face her from where I stand. "It's Olivia." I smile, warmly. "Friends call me Liv."

"Okay," she nods with a wide, friendly smile that only Dana is capable of awarding to someone. "I'll see you soon, Liv." She calls out to me from afar. I can't help but to think that it'll be the last of a million times someone calls me by that name this week, the last I'll ever hear it all anymore until I return to New York.

I cringed as the echo of my nickname remained flowing through the ether. A loud, irregular, winter-fresh breeze, blowing into the night sky. I felt a frightful chill running down my spine and then everything went silent around me, almost as if for a moment time stood stilled. The wind destroying everything surrounding me with its forceful movements, leaving me alone under the glistening surveillance of the moon's light, searching for answers to my unspoken and unanswered questions. I felt a pair of restless eyes drilling holes to my entire being and I abruptly turned every way possible until coming face-to-face with the owner of the menacing eyes. I blinked hard not sure if to trust the vision in front of me, but as he came more into focus I knew that my eyes could not have been deceiving me. The man that stood directly ahead of me was none other than Elliot Stabler. Neither of us dared to speak but I could feel myself growing incredibly weak under his hate-filled glare, cloaking itself with betrayal. I did the next best thing to spoken communication and outstretched my arm to remove his angered features in hopes of lightening his mood and the environment around us. Before my skin could come in contact, he flinched in utter distrust, moving along from my side. I clicked my heels into gear to stop him but when I gripped his shoulder he dispersed into a million tiny particles. I lost balance of my footing, crashing onto the ground. Upon reaching the concrete ground, it shattered like glass and the next thing I knew, I was falling, a dark energy force following in pursuit after me-swallowing me whole and suffocating me alive.

"Is there a reason why you've stopped all movement, Liv." Dean mocked.

I shook my head at the sound of his irritable voice, making sure to release the blur nesting inside my head. It appears to be that I have remained in place unwilling to walk up the flight stairs to board on plane. Maybe this is my conscious' way of telling me that, informing Elliot of my departure was _really_ the right thing to do. Perhaps I should have mentioned something but it's all in the past now, what's done is done. I'll just have to deal with the repercussions of my actions later, if there ever is a later. On the bright side, with the time spent away I'll be able to conjure up a great, wordily apology. He'll be over it in no time and when we look back on it, it'll make for a good laugh.

"You can call me Persephone." I correct him, making my way up the flight of stairs after giving New York one last glance with my sincerest farewell.


	3. Leave Out All The Rest

**Disclaimer: **I don't own L&O: SVU or any of its characters, it/they belong to Dick Wolf/NBC. This story is just meant for entertainment purposes and I am not making any profit out of this nor do I intend to. It's all in good fun.

**A/N:** Yeah, sorry, I've so been meaning to update but school just got in the way, busy little bee that I was. Also what got in the way was the news of Christopher Meloni leaving SVU after season 12. I know, I know, right! I died too when I heard. What the hell is wrong with him? I mean, I see his point, but still. So, anyways because of it I've been on this crazy L&O: SVU DVD seasons marathon binge, when the all day USA marathons aren't on of course, these last couple of days have been just so depressing. What's one to do, right??? Bright side, at least Mariska isn't leaving, well, yet that is and we still got some time with Meloni. Damn they better make his final episode phenomenal! Okay, on with the story. This chapter is inspired by Linkin Park's Leave Out All The Rest. Yes, all the chapters are somewhat influenced by songs, I love music, all kinds, I don't discriminate. Again, criticism is welcomed, so let me know what you think. If you want, it's whatever. Oh, also, I forgot to mention last time that this story is post Informed in season 8 with references to some episodes in season 7, so if you haven't gotten that far into SVU, this story may contain some spoilers.

* * *

**Leave Out All The Rest**

**Dreams surely are difficult, confusing, and not everything in them is brought to pass for mankind. For fleeting dreams have two gates: one is fashioned of horn and one of ivory. Those which pass through the one of sawn ivory are deceptive, bringing tidings which come to nought, but those which issue from the one of polished horn bring true results when a mortal sees them.**

**- Homer, The Odyssey**

The car ride with Dean is every bit maladroit, but, it's not as if I'd expect it to be otherwise. In fact, I'd already foreseen it to be this way, the first three minutes spent together within the airplane flight told me this. I suppose part of the lack in communication is because neither of us really knows what to say. Although, If someone was to ask me, I would say an apology from him is in order. If I wasn't so exhausted, maybe I'd spare a few words out of courtesy just to break the ice between us. Yeah, right, who was I trying to kid? I wouldn't strike up a conversation with this man even if my life depended on it, well, I should rephrase that, I wouldn't strike up a conversation with him have it not be work related.

I look out the window, sighing melancholy at the pouring rain. Ever since we landed in Portland-it been raining. Had I still been in New York, I wouldn't see the rain as indiction of a sign of what to come in my days here, like a dreaded prophecy of some sorts, categorizing it as just inevitable like I had with the New York rain. It could just that, inevitable, but the apprehensive, and more dominant part of me, wanted to believe differently. It added to the gloom of the whole background.

I reach across for my FIJI bottled water that was resting inside the cup holder. I brought it up to my lips, drinking the refreshing water until my throat was no longer dry. I seal the cap back on the bottle carefully, laying the half empty bottled water on my lap. It felt as if I was revitalized again, making me feel-dare I say it, relaxed for the first time since this proceeding had taken precedence. I reposition my body on the seat, allowing myself to get more comfortable.

It's a shame the calming effect left faster than one can say, __, what with Dean having started to tap his thumbs on the steering wheel and all.

I pivot my head to stare at Dean's annoying gesture in hopes that he'd get the hint and stop with the noise.

He raises his gaze from the road to meet my stare for a second, "Like what you see?"

"Excuse me?" I reply, not believing what I just heard. Was he clueless too?

He furrows his eyebrows, shaking his head, "Oh! No. Uh, no. I meant if you liked what you were seeing so far, as in Portland."

Huh, I guess I'm the clueless one out of the two.

I shrug my shoulders, "Um, well, it's raining-"

"Oh, right. Dana said you weren't so fond of the rain," He nods, "or the cold."

"Huh," I smile, awkwardly. "is that so? What else did she say?"

He shakes his head sideways, "Not much after that."

"How about before?"

"Not much either." He waves his right hand.

"Oh, well, we haven't known each other for very long." I proclaim in my defense because I don't know what she's been saying. Maybe that's why he has this spoiled, superficial mental image of me. Having said that, Dana would never do something like that, it's not her at all. That wrongful characterization of me is all his doing.

"And here I thought you two were friends, that's how you made it out to seem at the airport." He laughs, lightly. "Maybe you'd like to let her in on it."

"Yeah, we're friends. We just haven't been friends for a long period of time, is all."

"Ah, sure, that explains the lack of trust." He snips. "Just so you know, Dana is one of the most trustworthy people you will ever meet in your entire life."

I think I preferred the uncomfortable silence between the two.

"I never said she wasn't!" I declare. "I really like Dana, she's a great person. Where is this coming from?"

"From you. You think you're so better than everybody else."

"What? No, you don't even know me!"

It amazes me, how much this man-who I have only met a few hours ago, crawls under my skin like some infectious disease.

"I know your whole lifestyle revolves around designer apparel." He grasps my left had, bringing it to eye view, showing me my _Cartie_r watch.

How does he know? Jeez, does he have some kind of designer label radar or censor that I should know about?

"Oh, my God! You have got to let that go. I forgot to take it off, I'm going to. No worries." I raise my hands, teasingly.

"You know, I don't think you take this mission seriously. You are just a waste of time." He reveals.

I look at him dubiously, "You can't be any more further from the truth. I'll have you know that I take my job very seriously, whether that be here in Oregon or New York. Honestly, I don't think that your problem with me has anything to do with my _'designer apparel'_. No. It goes much deeper than that, your problem is with me, who I am."

I wait for him to answer but he doesn't.

"Oh, my God! It is me, I'm right."

"How are you right?" He glances at me, "You said so yourself, I don't even know you."

"Like that matters with you. I'm right because I'm a detective and you're an FBI agent. Federal Plaza is always looking down on all the locals. You dislike the idea of having to work with me, admit it. You think a person of your status shouldn't be associating with someone of my category."

"Oh, come on. Don't be ridiculous! We work jointly with people like you more often than you think, I'm used to it." He shrugs.

I smirk, "People like me?"

"I didn't mean it like that." He justifies. "You're still being ridiculous, you see. You're impossible."

"I'm not being ridiculous and you know it. Just come out and say it. It's not like you'll be hurting my feelings or anything. I'm a big girl, I tie my own shoe laces and everything."

He rolls his eyes. "If I say it, would you give it a rest already and resume in silence?"

"If you mean it, then yes." I say.

"What do you mean_ if_ I mean it? No." He shakes his head.

"Yes, that's the only way." I revoke.

"No. Your way sucks." He answers.

"Well, that's the only way to settle this discussion." I reply.

He shakes his head, "I have a better way."

"Really?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Yes," He affirms, "this discussion is over."

"Oh, yes, because your solution was so much better." I mock.

"Thank you. I knew we'd see eye-to-eye on things. You know, if you keep agreeing with me like this, this affiliation thing we have going on," He points from him to me, "may have just found the light towards salvation." He grins, his stupid grin.

"You and I-obviously will never see eye-to-eye, on anything, and this discussion is not over." I quip back.

"You know, I really feel awful for all your past boyfriends." He sneers, beamingly. "What part of over did you not get?"

"The over part. Oh, and don't feel sorry for them. I was, still am, and always will be the highlight of their miserable lives."

He tilts his head to take in my expression. "Ouch! Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned." He stifles a small laugh.

"FYI, they end amicably."

Well, amicably for the most part. 89% is not bad, it's a success rate.

"Are you always this poised?" He questions.

"Are you always this...abrupt articulator?" I contrast.

He places his left finger tips on his chin and pretends to think. "I suppose I am. So, are you liking Portland?"

Ugh! What does it matter?

I glance out the window like I did before, paying close attention this time to the environment staring back at me. Once making it beyond all the rain and the nightfall monopolizing all the scenery, Oregon wasn't that terrible. Dana was right. I guess our definitions of lovely aren't so different after all. It's picturesque, a breathe of fresh air. I couldn't deny that even if I wanted to.

"It's...yeah, greater than I had expected."

We swapped a few more snarky comments on anything that came to his mind and that was mostly it for vocal communication. The remainder of the car ride was ridden in silence.

Ultimately we made it to our destination. A charming, decent, sky-blue home; much like the color of Elliot's eyes, smiled invitingly at me. It sat on top a beautiful green lawn, separated by a cobblestone passageway. A pearl-colored, hybrid, Toyota Prius parked in the driveway, counting down the seconds to be driven in.

"Here," Dean gave me a spare umbrella and a pair of keys. "You go on ahead and I'll go get your luggage."

I would have disputed his offer and let him know that I was capable enough to gather my own belongings but I didn't want to start with the annoying banter again.

I stepped out the car, opening the umbrella, placing it properly above my head to shield myself from the uprising taps of the roaring rain. I walked across the cobblestone passageway, slipping the key in its rightful position and turning the doorknob to get through.

Upon entering I decided to take a tour. The house has a homey-comfortable atmosphere: two bedrooms, a communal bathroom, a studio office, common area and dinner den. It was all very wonderful indeed, but, it still wasn't home-my home.

"Is this favorable or what?" Dean says, leaning in the doorway.

I nod my head, still viewing the house.

"But?" He voices, slowly.

"No but, I approve."

"The look in your eyes gives me reason to believe there's a huge but, but, you're not willing to dwell on the details."

"You're reading way into this." I roll my eyes.

"Fine. Where do you want me to set these?" He raises my suitcase and duffel bag.

"Anywhere is okay, really." I walk pass him, ready to leave the room when I hear a big thump on the wooden floor.

"Well, that's settled." He wipes his hands together, leaping over my things, making his way out.

I place a hand over his chest, pushing him back softly to get him to stop. "What was that?"

He gives my luggage a quick glance. "I think that," he points to the mess he made, "is evidently your problem."

"You know, I didn't mean you couldn't place it down gently."

"Yeah, well, I'm kind of in a hurry." He brushes pass me.

"I'm sure you would have spent the same amount of time to place the items on the ground, that we spent talking about it." I face him.

"Weak hands," he motions, clenching and unclenching them. "Okay, I'm going to leave, you go on and get some rest. I'll call to check on how you're doing later. Your new cell should be in the east bedroom. Procedure goes in full effect Monday, I'll explain the details thoroughly tomorrow, so, be ready to work then." He walks off, slamming the front door audibly to signal his departure.

I reach down for my baggage, making my way to the east bedroom. I placed my belongings on top of the bed and begin to unpack and get settled. I was thankful that Dean had left, I wouldn't have to pretend to be okay with the idea of being in this God forsaken city-beautiful as it may be. I was just way pass into the weariness of having to plaster on a smile for everyone to see, although, something tells me Dean understood this very well. At least, he allows me to harbor on it, unlike Elliot with his constant hovering. Come to think about it, that's one of his more endearing qualities. It goes to show that he really cares about me and my well-being, I mean...the well-being of everyone...in general. The well-being of Kathy and the kids-especially, always his first priority.

I run my hands through my hair, sighing a deep breath, walking desolately out to the terrace. I could feel the release of relief escaping from my every being. I dropped densely onto the wet cobblestone ground, approving the relentless rage of my nemesis, the rain.

I sat there thinking about what would become of Elliot's and my partnership and friendship upon my return? Could things possibly go back to they way they used to be? Although, we weren't really, technically on good terms with each other before I left, it was more along the lines of shaky grounds-we were tolerating each other, barely on speaking terms for the sake of the job. Our partnership after the whole Gitano breakthrough wasn't that effective as it once was and needed to be again. It was as if the unspoken exhibition caused an unrepairable damage and somehow we both ended up broken inside by it, trying to decipher the meaning behind this forced acknowledgement.

I fastened my eyes shut in hopes of tracing back into my memories, highly and notably for anything that I might have missed that will be of any help to breaking down this thing between us that I have yet to put a name to.

_Flashback..._

"If that sniper hadn't beaten you to it," he paused, choosing his words carefully, "I know you would have taken that shot, Olivia."

I faced him, speaking with uppermost sincerity, "No, I wouldn't have." I studied his expression. "Did you really expect me to?" I asked.

He turned away, ashamed for speaking his thoughts aloud, processing the thoughts into words, and allowing the thoughts to find home in his head.

"Did you really expect me to cause your death? What about your kids?" I questioned.

"I don't know." He claimed, determined not to look at me. "I just couldn't get that boy out of my head."

I shook my head lightly, "What about me?" I whispered, softly.

"Look, we both chose each other over the job. We can never let that happen again." He stated. "Otherwise, we can't be partners."

I sat there stunned, not wanting to comprehend his words. "I can't believe you're saying that." I revealed, honestly.

The piercing of his words clawing to the core of my soul, their blaring-excruciating sharp, razor edges painfully breaking and entering.

"You and this job are about the only things that I've got anymore. I don't want to wreck that. I couldn't take it." He confided, standing to his feet to leave.

I remained seated, breathing in his last words. He didn't want to lose me too? I wasn't sure how to react to that or how to feel because I was uncertain of what this meant for us. What I was positive of, without a shadow of a doubt, is the fact that he did need not to worry about losing me-ever, because that was never going to happen. I'd never allow it to spiral in that direction. I'd always be there for him through thick and thin like I have many a times before.

_End Flashback_

If anyone had called me a liar to my face a couple of months ago, I would have argued it to no end, saying, I may be all that you say you want me to be-but never a liar. Upon seeing me now, everyone I'd ever spoken that line to, would perhaps get in a good laugh at my expense. Not to mention Elliot, who would never let me forget it because I had walked out on him like everyone else he cared about had, and, as if once wasn't enough already-I did it again a second time.

Recalling the memory wasn't of much help. It just served to reassure me, that, yes, I am the biggest scum walking the earth's surface. I'm still stuck inside this deserted limbo like I was before, still wondering what this meant for us in the long-run. I sucked in a few breaths, bringing my knees up to my chest. I wrapped my arms tightly around them, placing my forehead above the top of my knees. Maybe something else can answer these eternal confusing questions.

_Flashback..._

"I liked that shirt." I said, referring to the now ripped shirt laying across the bench.

He stared at me, unsure of why I was there. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard what happened between you and Blaine."

"What can I tell you? He's a prick." He goes to close his locker-room door, staring at me intently with his eagle eyes.

I couldn't withstand it for another expecting minute and looked away.

He walks closer to me, standing aligned to my center. "Why didn't you tell me?" He asked in a low, demanding tone.

I've been rehearsing this scene in my head numerously that I just recited the same old, worn-out lines to him. "Elliot, we've been partners for seven years, longer than anybody else here. We needed a change."

I gave him a minute to run through his next line, but he just continued to stare with this wounded and betrayed look, masking the true radiant blue shine of his eyes.

I felt sick to my stomach knowing that I was the sole cause of it all. I never thought he'd be this hurt in the process, if anything, I'd thought this would ease him a bit because I had fallen under the impression that this was what he wanted.

A nervous sigh escaped my lips because he obviously had't gone through this scenario quite like I had just yet. I thought it best to skip to my upcoming line. "I'm sorry. I should have talked to you. It's just...just too complicated."

Complicated. The word complicated seemed appropriate, it encapsulated our relationship to the foundation of it all. Neither of us not knowing for sure exactly what it is and now with these series of unfortunate events, it just kept getting more difficult to understand fully.

He seemed unpleased with my answer but he didn't push the subject further, which I was grateful for.

"Thanks for dropping by." He pronounced, letting me know what he really meant with his James Dean glossy-eyes. He walked passed me and out the door.

I wanted greatly to stop him from leaving and disclosing to him what I really wanted to confess, but, it would just confuse him all the more. I mean, hell, I haven't even begun to recognize it myself enough to put it in more words than just...than just complicated.

I stood against the door frame letting the restrained tears sprinkle down my burning cheeks. "Elliot, please, don't allow your anger towards me turn into resentment...just...leave out all the rest. Don't make this anymore difficult than it needs to be because I don't think I could handle it. I'm only strong on the surface." I uttered, whispering, in between muffled sobs.

I heard the door creak open and I immediately wiped my gushing tears with clenched fists.

"Hey, what are you doing here, Olivia?" John said, in good spirits. "I knew you couldn't fight my irresistible charm for too long, eventually I figured you'd be back for more, but not this soon in the game."

I smiled half-heartily making sure to avoid his gaze. "Unfortunately, not this time, Munch. Sorry." I shrug. "I had some things to sort through." I brush pass him

"Elliot." He blurted, boldly. Daring me to deny it. "I saw him leaving as I walked in, seemed mildly upset. Everything okay?"

I stop cold in my tracks. "Yeah," I turn my face sideways, not trusting myself to fully look him in the eyes. "I think so." I open the door to walk away. "Thanks."

_End Flashback_

I shiver in response to the rain, realizing that I should probably get back inside if I'd like to avoid catching a cold. I stand to my feet, parting open the terrace door and slipping my shoes off, carefully, not wanting to dirty the wooden floor.

I discard my damp clothes quickly, trading them for my bath robe and setting the soaked clothes inside the dryer to free them from the excess moisture. I turn my heels, grabbing a towel on my way to the bathroom.

After turning the hot water on, I walk over to the mirror while waiting for the tub to fill. I stare at my face in the mirror as I run my long, sleek fingers through my disheveled short hair. I examine my facial features, noticing my already pallid, anemic-unhealthy appearance. Maybe the fluorescent lights could be partially to blame. I look intently again at my reflection in the mirror, admitting defeat. No, the lights couldn't even be partially to blame because my dull image-is me. This place is sucking the life out of me, even in the middle of this green city...I have zero color whatsoever. Might as well just pack my bags now because I'd never be able to fool these people, I'd never be mistaken for one of them. I'd be moronic to try.

Cutting off the running water, I reached for the scented bath oils on the counter and poured them adequately in the tub. I inhaled the sweet aroma, stepping inside, closing my eyes and blocking out the rest of the world until tranquility set in.

"Hey." I called out to him but he ignored me, pretending he was hard of hearing aid so he wouldn't have to deal with me. "Hey."

"He doesn't know anything." He says, walking hurriedly ahead.

"You got something you want to say to me? Because if you do, let's hear it."

"Why didn't you shoot Gitano?" He blurted, flatly and demanding.

"He was using the child as a shield" I spoke in my defense.

"How could you let him get so close to you?"

I was taken somewhat aback by his last comment, I thought he would understand the position that I was in, but I was wrong. "There were innocent civilians around. I couldn't get a shot."

"Well, he got close and Ryan's dead." He interjected.

Knowing that a part of him desperately accused me for the outcome of the situation was a harsh reality to face. "So this is my fault?"

"No, I can't do this anymore." He verbalized, circling from me to walk away. "I can't be looking over my shoulder making sure you're okay."

Soon as he vocalized the words, I felt myself reach the steaming-hot, boiling point. "You son of a bitch, you know that's not true." There is only so much nonsense I can take from someone before surpassing my limit.

He makes a blunt halt, registering my words briefly. He sways his movements toward me and I know I've hit a nerve.

"I need to know you can do your job and not wait for me to come to the rescue." He yelled in my face.

I was shocked by his words, I never knew he felt that way. I mean, I know that I can hold my own, I've proven it throughout my career. He never needed to play the role of the knight in shinning armor with me nor I the role of the damsel in distress with him. How could he shove it all in my face? Elliot was never one to play the blame game, he always assumed responsibility for his actions. We both did, that's why this new attitude was like a hard pill to swallow. We were always there for each other, it's part of what made our partnership strong, and because of qualities such as those, our partnership and friendship dynamic has always been able to withstand the test of time.

"All right, that's enough. Knock it off." I distinctively heard Don say.

I wrench up from under the foaming water, coughing and choking on the stream that had entered my nostrils and mouth while I shook erratically and inadvertently.

I placed my left hand over my chest, trying to sooth and calm the palpitations of my distressed heart. "That's the last time I fall asleep in the middle of a bath." I whisper to myself." Grasping the towel to dry off.

I glide my bath robe on, tying a knot with the strands around my waist. I head to the closet and drawer to gather up some sleepwear. After getting dressed I flipped on my blow dryer to drain it from the dripping water. Once I was finished I went back the bedroom and lay down on the bed to sleep, ignoring at best the buzzing against the windowpane.

I was roaming around the metal plating facility where we thought Gitano might be stationed in. I didn't really know which way to go, much less, where I was going. Everything looked the same once you got deeper into the facility, I really had to rely on my instincts to guide me towards the right path.

As I continued walking ahead I was startled by loud crashing and my thoughts immediately turned to Elliot. I stood still, hearing struggling. I figured Elliot may have found Gitano.

I blocked out all other concerns from my head, focusing on nothing but them at the moment. I followed their groans and paced to find them.

A gun shot was fired and I rapidly dropped down to the floor. "Drop it! Drop your weapon now!" I ordered Gitano. "Drop it! Drop it!"

"I'm gonna shoot him!" He warned.

"Shoot him!" Elliot voiced.

"I'm gonna kill him!" Gitano addressed me again.

Everything was an instant daze, sheltered by a black veil making it harder to see, mainly because we were all talking at the same time. Neither Gitano or I wanting to be the first to fold.

"Drop it now. Don't be an idiot, Gitano! Put the gun down or you're dead."

"Pull the trigger. Don't even think about it." Elliot urged me.

Was he out of his mind? He's even more selfish at the time of death than he sometimes was on a regular day-to-day basis. How could he advice me to pull the trigger when Gitano has him at his will? Who's to say that Gitano won't shot him before my bullet even hits him? Or worse, what if Gitano uses him as a human shield when I fire and I end up the murderer of my own partner? Oh, my gosh, what about Kathy and his children? What would become of them without him?

No, no, no! Just be quiet Olivia! Clear your head and think, there is a way out of this. I repeated to myself until believing it.

"You hear me? He's gonna die!" Gitano's shouting forced me out of my trans-like-state.

"Shoot him!" Elliot insisted.

"Shut up! Everybody shut up!" Gitano ordered.

"Victor, there's no way out of this." I spoke calmly to him.

"Stop talking!"

"You know what's going to happen if you don't put that gun down." I say getting into a still sitting position. "Now enough people have died..."

"Olivia." I heard Elliot say, I ignored him, not wanting to look him in the eyes for fear I might lose this for both of us.

"...and I know that you don't want to die." I stand, staring at Gitano's cold, estranged eyes. "You could have pulled the trigger on Detective Stabler, and then I would've had to kill you. But you didn't do that. You didn't do that because you're being smart."

"You've only got one chance. You've gotta take it." Elliot would not stop his unwelcoming speech.

Didn't he know that if he kept on speaking I would break down? He is the one that keeps me sane and put together. I am who I am because of him and without him I'd be nothing, I'd be extinct, ancient history like the dinosaurs. I needed to concentrate on my scheme, he couldn't break it by turning the focal point of my attention on him. It was already hard enough for me not gaze into his eyes and assure him that we'd make it out just fine.

"Where's Rebecca, Victor? Is she alive?"

"I'm not gonna tell you dick until you drop the gun, bitch!" He hollered.

"Shoot him!" Elliot yelled.

"Shut up, Elliot!" I didn't mean for it to come out as harsh as it did but he had to understand that all I wanted from him at this moment was for him to stay silent.

I walked just a few steps wanting to get close to Elliot, gesture to him somehow that he just needed to follow my lead in order for things to work out.

"Stop moving or he's dead!" He pulled the back of Elliot's collar, bringing him up to his feet.

"And then what? Do really think that you're gonna walk out of here? Because that's not gonna happen. Now this is your choice, dead or alive." I said, rationally.

"I go, he goes." He nodded towards Elliot from behind him.

"Victor, tell us were Rebecca is, and we can end this right now." I continue to persuade him.

"Dead." He shared, unshaken. He gave me a wicked, crooked smile and resumed, "I used her up and I bled her dry. You want to hear how she screamed? How she begged for her mommy?"

"Stop it!" I felt my knees shake and my stomach revolt in sickness at the thought of having to hear him go into intricate detail of his wrongdoings. He had targeted my weakness and was determined to exploit it.

"She was a slut, that one. A real little whore."

Elliot twisted his head, glaring at him with fuming fire, "Gitano, I'm looking at a dead man..."

Gitano had his full attention on Elliot at this point, trying to redirect him back into his previous position. I took this chance to get closer, positively thinking that if I did, I could execute a perfect shot straight into Gitano.

"Any closer and you're gonna to be wearing his brains on your coat!" He glanced at me from the corner of his eye before orbiting his head to face me.

"Olivia, there is no reason to keep this piece of crap alive. Pull the trigger right now. Olivia, pull it! Shoot him!"

I had lost all self-control, gazing into his gorgeous ocean-blue eyes that were now embodied by a mixture of care, doubt, protection, anger, self-pity, and the most evident of all...resignation.

Was he giving up hope in me-in us, that we would engineer our way out of this like we had so many times before? Maybe he was right in doing so? Maybe it is stupid to think that we could win this losing battle, Gitano had us and he knew.

I concluded that I should give Gitano a taste of his own medicine, make him doubt the situation unfolding before us just like he had done with us. I pretended to follow Elliot's commands and pointed my gun in Gitano's direction just to see if he would keep good on his word. A little voice in my head kept telling me he was bluffing underneath it all, he wouldn't shoot Elliot because he wanted to come out of this ordeal alive.

"You know...you know that little girl, it's possible that she isn't dead." He huffed, his breaths sharp. "She could be locked up in this building somewhere, huh? Or some place else 50 miles away. You don't really know, do you?"

I decided to play along with his game. "You're a liar."

"Yeah, well, that's the point." He rushed.

"Tell us where she is, Victor?"

"She's here. She's not dead otherwise he would have been long gone. Unless you like them dead. You sick like that, too, Gitano? You like to play with corpses?"

He dug his steely gun further into his head, "Yeah, I love that. The deader, the better. They don't fight as much."

"Olivia, you think about me, Rebecca is dead. Pull that trigger. Shoot him. Shoot him. Olivia, shoot him."

Shoot him? Shoot him, right, okay. No, wait, don't shoot him. What? Oh, god. I can't even decide what's right anymore with this enveloping eclipse siding in the most logical part of my head, nothing made sense anymore. This unraveling predicament was fogging up my mind, striking down my five senses like a fatal, poisonous viper attack.

"Yeah, do that. But you'd better make sure you take me out with one shot."

I attempted to keep my gun steady on him but he kept changing positions, switching to either side behind Elliot's shoulders.

"One perfect, perfect shot. Of course my reflexes are pretty tight. I could pull the trigger before the bullet even hits me. Or maybe you miss me altogether. Either way there's an 80% chance I'm gonna take this guy's head clean off." He spat, detrimentally. "But you try it, definitely. I'll probably turn out great."

"You can kill us both, Victor. You'll still never walk out of here." I voiced, rationally.

"Right. Right, 'cause...'cause you got some buddies coming, huh? When's that going down?"

"Any minute."

"Great. Great."

"Just tell us where you hid her?" I pressed the issue.

"You know, you could put the gun down. At least, then you might find her. Otherwise, she's gonna die. She's gonna die, he's gonna die, and it'll be all your fault. Just like that little boy. How's your neck?"

It was my fault, even he held me accountable of all liability. Gosh, how could I be so stupid! Everything has deteriorated downhill from then on and it's all because of me. The outcome of the circumstances now would all depend on my failures before. How the hell did my ignorance get us here?

"It's not the same thing, Olivia. You know that." Elliot expressed, aiming to comfort me with his words. Somehow he knew what I was thinking.

How could he say that now? How could he say that now when moments earlier he was practically singing the same tune as Gitano! He can't change his mind now, taking it back in the blink of an eye. It's my fault, everything is. Everything that was sure to occur here, now, would be my fault too and I'd have to live with the consequences of my absurdity for the rest of my potential life, depending on whether or not I come out of this dead or alive. I can never quite tell if I will screw something up until it's too late.

"Yes, it is, Olivia." He affirmed. "God, you two, couple of screw-ups."

_'Yes, it is, Olivia.'_ Gitano's stupid voice kept ringing in my head, gnawing raw at my insides.

"Olivia." I barely heard Elliot say through Gitano's speech and echos.

"How could you let that little boy go?" He questioned, humorously.

"Olivia, look at me." Elliot pleaded.

"Maybe you're just incompetent." He suggested, correctly.

"Now, you can do the right thing. I didn't. And I made that choice with Ryan, and it was wrong."

"Elliot." I said, above a whisper.

"It was my fault." He affirmed. "Don't do it."

It's not my fault, I told myself internally. Elliot's words, picking me up again from my self-imposed breakdown, he was giving me the strength that I needed to not give up the battle.

"Shut up." Gitano told Elliot.

Elliot disregarded him and kept speaking, "Don't make that mistake."

"Stop talking." Gitano communicated, nervously.

"I would've done the same thing." I confessed, truthfully.

"I said shut up!"

He shakes his head, "Don't make my mistake."

"Drop it! Drop the gun! Drop it now!" He conveys upon hearing the opening of a door. "Put that gun down now! You cops don't come in here or everybody dies!" Gitano threatened.

I centered on Elliot, connecting eye contact with him, both of us coming in sync as one. He wanted apologize to me, apologize for the way he acted in the interrogation room and the war of words following there after. He wanted me to know that he was only trying to push me away because of the weakness inside him. His eyes ruptured through my soul and he was urgent to know if I accepted his apology. How could I not? I would forgive him anything, he never needed to ask because the answer would always be yes.

I tipped my head lightly for only him to see and he smiled earnestly. His sincere, zealous smile forever imprinted in my heart.

"Hey! Hey! Hey!" Gitano spoke to us. "I'll tell you where she is."

I was about to break our connection when he pleaded with me to remain solely on him.

"Where?" I asked Gitano, firm gaze still on Elliot's eyes.

"She's in a van parked in a garage in Newark. She might still be alive."

I shook my head, "He's lying."

"I know." Elliot nodded.

"He's never gonna tell us." I add, facing reality.

"You're right." He nods his head again, agreeing with me.

"We can all walk out of here alive if you just put the gun down." Gitano was the one bargaining now.

"It's all right." Elliot asserted, resignedly.

'It's all right.' What is all right? What is he referring too? Does he think...no way! Maybe this is just one of his schemes that he's conjured up to make Gitano believe otherwise and he wanted me to have a costarring role? Right! Yes, come on Olivia, play along.

"I'm sorry." I whisper, clearly.

The once silent footsteps are now heard acutely, a gun shot leaving the sharpshooter's weapon.

Gitano's bullet spears right through Elliot's head, blood spattering all over me as they both fall to the concrete floor-motionless.

"Elliot!" I screamed. But he was gone, In his place an old, rotten, deceased corpse lay perishing.

I cried hysterically, running to the lifeless corpse, but then Dean stepped out of the shadows, his eyes dark with mystery. He held out his hand, summoning me to come with him.

"I can't, not without Elliot, I won't." I declare.

"That's not Elliot anymore, Olivia." He stated. "Come with me."

I took one step toward Dean, but not able to leave Elliot behind, I rushed to the opposite direction.

"Elliot, wake up. El, please wake up. Please!" I sobbed, kneeling down next to his side.

The corpse opened his eyes and lunged forward to grab me. The ground cleaving open the divides, devouring us deeper into their fiery hollows.

"Olivia, take my hand!" Dean launched himself to grasp me.

I take his hand shakily. "Please, don't let me go."

The corpse holds tighter onto me and it becomes harder to shake him off, my hands slowly dropping from Dean's grip.

"Dean I can't."

"Yes, you can!" He encourages.

My fingers knead with his like a thread, but the weight of the corpse I can't remove and he plunges us further into the rings of fire, my fingers untangling from Dean's.

"No!" I blared, breathlessly, extracting violently upright in the bed.

I was awoken by the thunderous crash of lighting and hissing of the rain still wailing outside.

My eyes roamed to the digital clock, energized on top of the nightstand, it was four fifteen in the morning. I unclenched my fist which were holding the covers tightly in a deadly grip. The sweat dripping incessantly down my skin, seeping through my white tank top. I hoped off the bed, grabbing my tank top from the bottom hem, pulling it over my head and tossing it into the dirty hamper. I opened the first top drawer of the dresser and pulled another tank top like the one before only black.

When I finished putting on my clothes, I went over to the bathroom, taking a clean cloth to rinse my face from all the sweat before going back to bed. I could already tell that the days and nights to come were going be long and brutal. I pulled the covers over me, flipping on my stomach in hopes of falling victim to a dispelling slumber.


	4. Leave The Memories Alone

**Disclaimer: **I don't own L&O: SVU or any of its characters, it/they belong to Dick Wolf/NBC. This story is just meant for entertainment purposes and I am not making any profit out of this nor do I intend to. It's all in good fun.

**A/N: **OMG! You guys would not believe the busy weeks that I have been through. Research paper after research paper, preparing for an oral speech after speech-it's insane! My intention was to update Sunday but family showed up unexpectedly and I had to go and mingle, so I thought, okay this is fine-it's whatever, I'll just update when they leave and somewhere before the Oscars start. Yeah, it didn't happen that way cause one of my cousins invited me to watch Alice in Wonderland on that somewhere in between. That movie was amazingly awesome! For those of you who haven't seen it-it's a must! Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass, and What Alice Found There have always been my one of my favorites, even from that first Disney movie adaptation. I didn't quite understand it when I was younger, but, that's what I love about it, the confusing, nonsense, curious elements. I also randonly just have to say, congratulations to Sandra Bullock, Jeff Bridges, Mo'Nique, and Christoph Waltz! I love all those movies. As you can tell I love watching movies, hahaha. Oh, loved Sandra, Cameron, and Jennifer Lopez's dresses, my three favorites. Also Miley (dress seemed a bit tight, but it's all good), Demi, Queen Latifah, Tina, and Mo'Nique looked great. Okay, so resuming with SVU. I am so happy new episodes are back! Having Kathy and Mischa guest star was cool and what's even cooler is that Kathy got to lock lips with both Meloni and Hargitay. Why they didn't show the kiss between Olivia and Babs, it's so ridiculous-it's ridonculous! Like, Hello, this is America and SVU-we know what goes down. You know, why not make us bathe our eyes in Holly water next time? OMG! And then what's up with the ending of Savior, like WTF? You can't just leave me hanging like that, Jeez! Well, anyway my conclusion was that she made the decision for them to go on with the surgery and then the baby girl couldn't endure it. I went with that in part because I don't think Mischa is guest starring again, but this is just my opinion. Anyway, I want to say thank you to LawOrderFan01, who let me know that the Meloni leaving SVU was a hoax as soon as I vented about it on here. Also, to Yasona Black. I'm glad my story was to your liking and hope it stays on your good graces, but, only time will tell. Thanks, for your constructive criticism on the flashback thing that wasn't so clear to you, I made a mental note to remember the flashbacks in italics. Oh, and no, Olivia is not into the whole label thing, but, it goes with the grand scheme of it all. You'll see later how that goes into play with the whole story. Okay, so, this chapter was inspired by Fuel's Leave The Memories Alone. I hope you guys like it and um, you can let me know what you think, that's cool or, if you don't want to that's cool too. Well, I know I rant a lot and vent a lot, get over it, I'm over it-we can move on now, it's whatever. Arrivederci Signore e Signori!

* * *

**Memory...is the diary that we all carry about with us.**

**-Oscar Wilde**

**Leave The Memories Alone**

Contesting to go back to sleep proved to be useless. I didn't and couldn't go back to sleep, even after I was done reciting all Homeric Hymns known to man-by heart! The faithful seething of the rain would not stop pounding against the rooftop and windowpane. I shoved the pillow laying on my left, over my face, trying to muffle the noise in the background. Not that my efforts mattered because it didn't work, when the rain silenced into a soft whisper in the wind, was I only able to obtain my sanity again.

On mornings such as these, a typical debate against myself would be disputing the pros and cons of getting out of bed, but today, it's effortless-anything is better than laying lazily, sprawled in all directions, and scrutinizing on what today could have been had I stayed in New York. I leap out of bed, striding inside the restroom to shower, and then fixing myself fairly before tidying up the room a bit.

I race down the stairs craving a cup of coffee and a bite to eat. I popped open all cabinets, searching for something to snack on, but, to my dismay-all cabinets are absolutely empty, not even tiny specks of cookie crumbs are visible in the tucked away corners.

"Great." I run my hands through my hair, hearing the grumbling sound of my stomach in protest. "Just great."

I sink my weight further onto my elbows, gracefully stationed on the countertop, my eyes examining the modest kitchen to distract from my countertop, of which I'm somewhat hovering over, is made of wood. They must be making a comeback. I suppose it could be related to the fact that they prove to be long lasting when taken care of properly. The solid wood also helps exhibit a warm, relaxing feeling into the room. It goes well together with the hardwood flooring, offering a welcoming touch-perfect for a setting such as Portland. The designs of the paneled walls remind me of the ones in Elliot's apartment kitchen. Not that they are the same or anything, but, for some reason that was the first thing that came to mind when running a finger along the patterns. It seems kind off odd that I would remember them so clearly because I'd only been inside a total of three times. Although he had never said it out loud, everyone and their mother knew he disliked being in the hostel compartment of those four enclosing walls.

Gah! I mentally scold myself for standing here awkwardly with my tangled thoughts of him. In my defense, it's completely out of my jurisdiction, it's like...like an automatic reflex. I can't ignore it, it bounds my reason.

Over in the adjoining common area or family room is a row of pictures. Pictures of people that I'm sure were models-picture frame models. First, a picture of a man and a woman in an intimate picnic, I almost felt as if I was intruding and should look away. The next, a baby girl in the arms of her mother, others of people who could pass as family members, but most are of the same couple and child. It is reminiscent of that one episode of _Friends_ where Phoebe learns the guy in the picture frames her grandmother keeps around is not the man she always thought to be her father but the _Macy's_ picture frame model. The collage of pictures also reminds me of the time Elliot, Kathy, and the kids invited me over for dinner to celebrate my birthday. Sure, it was a month late, but it's the thought that counts. Well, that and the fact that work was at an all-time low in those days. Elliot had taken me on a tour around their home to view their family collection of pictures much like the one in this house-taunting before me, the sparkle in his eyes was hard to miss when he talked about his family. He could go on a talking rampage about them when one was willing to listen, it was a very comical sight to say the least.

I'd had to make the mental note of telling Dean to remove them, at least until I left back home. I want all memories of a past life that I once lived away from clouding my view in this new life. I know that it is a much easier task to say than actually perform it in actions, since everything apparently sets me back in time, but I need to make an effort-starting with the abolishment of these pictures. Drowning in the sorrows of memories was the last thing I needed now. I kept emphasizing to myself the importance of leaving the memories alone, to kept from dwelling in the past because it distracted from the now-the present where my job was counting on me the most. These pictures were just to much to take in. I shouldn't see things as how they are and compare them as how they used to be.

It seemed so stupid to think of this now, being in this house, brought on much unprecedented thoughts that maybe I would have kept in the dark had I not been taking shelter in this unknown. I've always been good at ignoring things like these but at times when I'm resorted to reflect-they creep from the shadows of insecurity to insult and kick me like while I'm down.

I felt as if the walls of this house were closing up on me, elevating a feeling of unwanted claustrophobia. I had to get away, being here was far more impossible than I'd expected. It made me feel bitter.

I didn't want to face the light of day, but I couldn't stay in this house anymore. I enrobed the puke, mustard-green jacket that Dana had given me outside the airport. That thing was starting to grow on me.

Taking the keys from the coffee table and placing them in my jacket pocket, I made my way outside the front door, making sure to lock up. I opt to walk rather than drive around. Fresh air will do me good if it is an escape I'm seeking. The air was a little misty, not enough so that you couldn't see where you were going though. The wallowing of my boots against the puddles of rain went in congruence with the fuzziness of the air. If you tilted your head to the left a little and squinted your eyes a bit, it kind of looked like New York. Okay, so, um, maybe it doesn't, but lying to myself makes me feel at ease and that's all that matters, right? Whatever works.

"Hey!" I heard a man say but dismissed it, not believing it was my attention he demanded.

"Persephone," the man honked. "wait up!"

Persephone? Persephone? Sounds familiar and of importance, I almost feel like I should know. Oh, wait, right, now I remember! Ninth grade Greek mythology class, Ms. Vasquez. Persephone, Zeus and Demeter's daughter, Hades' wife, goddess of spring, queen of the underworld. No, that's not it. Wait, no, yeah, yes it is.

"Where are you going?" He commanded, parking his car along the sidewalk.

"I don't think I'm who you're looking for. I don't even believe we've met. I'm new in town, sorry." I affirm, picking up my pace, not bothering once to look at him.

Jeez, you'd think your average level of crazy would be lower in a green community like this, but it's obviously the same everywhere you go.

I hear him slam the door to his car, shuffling his feet on the pavement. "What the hell are you talking about? Have you lost your mind?"

Why can't some guys just get a clue? What's it going to take to get him to back off?

"What's your problem?" He grabs the curve of my elbow, bringing me in to face him.

It all happened so fast, and before I knew it, the bottom of my palm connected with his nose.

"Ow! What the hell was that for?" He spoke, barely audible, he hands glued to his face.

"Well, I'm sorry, but if you had just kept your hands to-" I stopped myself, catching a glimpse of the man's face.

Where have I seen him before? I lower my stance to get a better look at him.

"She's a professional, don't worry-she said! She's cooperative-she said! She's a-"

"Dean? Is that you?" I ask, feeling awful about my actions.

"Yes, Dean!" He yells, annoyed. "Who else were you expecting your first day here?"

Uh-oh, this can't be good. Oh my gosh! Persephone James! Stupid, stupid, stupid!

"Dean-" I try apologetically.

"Look, I know we got off to a patchy start, but, come on!"

Oh, God, is that blood? Okay, now it's official-this is definitely not good.

"Dean, listen to me, it was completely unintentional. I didn't mean to, I thought you were someone else. This new name thing...well...it's going to take me a while to get used to. I really am sorry."

I take doubtful steps, closing the space between us, unsure of whether he is the understanding type. I finally reach him, asking for permission to take a look at the aftermath, batting my remorseful eyes once for sympathy.

I can see his hesitation and I don't blame him. We're still trying to get used to each other, our partnership teetering to balance on shaky grounds and then this happens. Can it get any worse than this? Really, can it?

"Please, Dean, just let me see if you're okay, yeah? That's a lot of blood you're spilling there."

"I'm fine, forget it." He grips the bridge of his nose, lifting his head upward to stop the blood. "I've got a fragile nose."

I nod, "Weaker than your fragile hands?"

He glares sideways, "Not now, okay."

"Right, not the time." I agree. "Here, at least let me help you get cleaned up. Would you allow me that? It's the least I owe you."

"Show me the way." He waves.

"No, no, no, you keep your head up. I'll guide you." I take his upper arm but he halts.

"What?" I question.

"Well, this seems to me like a trust exercise. You, guiding me blind, yeah, I don't think that I can trust you. I mean, for all I know you could be guiding me to my death by plunging forward into traffic."

"Okay, allow me to entertain your statement for a second here while we stand." I pretend stupidly to be in deep thought. "Mmm-hmm, yeah, oh, of course-what traffic are you referring to exactly? Look around you, these streets are empty!"

"I don't think you're excluding the parked cars." He mentions.

"Right, because parked cars are known to cause bodily damage to an innocent bystander, who can't even tell right from left. I thought you said this wasn't the time?"

"It's not. I just didn't think you'd take it so seriously." He admits.

I roll my eyes, "You're an idiot."

I continue to assist him towards the house, opening quickly, and ushering him inside. "Just stand and try not to make a mess."

"A mess? Are you kidding me, this mess is your fault."

_Flashback..._

"You know, you could put the gun down. At least, then you might find her. Otherwise, she's gonna die. She's gonna die, he's gonna die, and it'll be all your fault. Just like that little boy. How's your neck?"

"It's not the same thing, Olivia. You know that."

"Yes, it is, Olivia. God, you two, couple of screw-ups."

_End Flashback_

"Hello, Olivia, Earth calling." Dean expressed.

"Yeah, what's up?" I shake my head, trying to regain focus.

I literally have know idea what is causing all these...memories. It must have been something he said, it's always something someone says that causes me to go on these one way trips. That much, I'm sure of.

"This nose bleed just doesn't seem to want to stop, can you hand me a napkin or something because there's a mess waiting to happen." He voices in staggered breaths, due to the dripping red liquid.

I nod my head, looking around the kitchen for napkins, and finally settling on a lonely cloth near the sink.

"Here, take this."I place the white cotton cloth in his free hand for him to take. "Better?"

"Yeah...at least, I think so." He utters. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." I smile, gracelessly. The guilt eating me alive. How could I not know it was him calling? I mean, sure, Dean is a douche-lord at times, but, should I have hit him unintentionally? Probably best that I had not. "Uh, would you like to sit on the couch or something?"

"I don't know, I wouldn't want to make a mess or anything. God forbid." He sprays in his arid sarcasm.

"Not if you keep that cloth composed, you won't." I advice, aiming to make the situation lighter among us.

I hope that came out in a friendly tone, it was becoming harder to hear myself speak with the ringing in my ears. The smell of his blood was starting to get the best of me. It hope it's not evident in my face either.

I could slowly see him make his way to one of the couches, my face inclining against the chill surface of the white wall, creating as much distance between us as I could without appearing to be rude.

All around me I could see the spinning of the room trying to pass hints of my consciousness ousting to the outskirts of nebulous recollection in annihilation. I close my eyes, breathing in and out silently through my mouth, using Dean's voice as the center of concentration.

"Olivia, have you been hearing anything I-oh, wow, hey are you feeling okay?" He asks, his voice alarmed and sharp.

Yes, I heard you...speaking, Dean-but not really paying attention to what you were saying.

Now, though, I am aware of what he's speaking and saying. How could I not? I could feel his worried presence standing next me. I should perhaps assure him I'm fine just so he can step back with his reeking stench and all.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry about it." I take three steps back on wobbly legs.

"You look pale. Are you feeling lightheaded?" He inquires.

"It's probably because I haven't had anything to eat, but then again, how could I when there's nothing in this house." I mutter, strongly clasping the thin thread of consciousness left due to the mindful repellent in proximity.

"About that," He ran his left hand through his "Benicio del Toro" hairdo, letting it rest on the back of his neck. "I wasn't sure what you liked, so I just left some money inside an envelope in one of the kitchen drawers. I guess we're even now."

"Even?" I look at him skeptically.

"Well, I forgot to call and tell you about that, and then, you bloodied me outside. So, we'll call that even."

"What I did to you doesn't compare to what you did-on any scale." I try not to intake air from his direction, turning instead to my left.

"Okay, well, why don't I take you out for breakfast and you accept. It'll be like our own peace treaty, so to speak." His cheeks flushed the lightest shade of rosy pink and I pretend not to notice.

"I don't know," I voice weakly, feeling my mind reaching a streak of dimness. "what if someone was to see us together and then our whole cover will be blown to pieces? We're already pushing it by being here now."

"Yeah, you're right. How could I even suggest it?" He offers a smile.

His mood falters underneath his exterior and I know I should say something back, but nothing would form in complete, coherent sentences. I was just in a strain, I couldn't. I already felt sick to my stomach-focusing was hard enough as it was already.

"Do you mind if I clean off the dry blood." He removes the once white as snow cloth and my stomach churns again at the sight and smell of metallic crimson.

"No, not at all. The communal bathroom is...you know where the east bedroom...where I'm staying?" I try to communicate, but know I'm wavering downhill.

"Well, I didn't know that was the bedroom you chose-"

I roll my eyes, annoyed because I feel like I am just nano seconds away from passing out in front of him. "So, you know, right?"

He nods his head.

"Well, instead of going to your...nevermind, just follow in my steps. Get it, got it, good." I take diligent and meticulous steps, sniffing the air before it surrendered to the pollution of his territorial essence of iron scent.

"Okay, we're here." I motion for him to enter. "I'll just-"

"Do you mind if I dispose of the cloth here?" He asked.

"Well, don't you...wouldn't you like...rather keep it as a souvenir?" I suggest, desperately. I don't think I'd like that scarlet, flushed fabric seeking shelter anywhere I'm stationed at. Having it out of sight and out of mind is where I would like that cloth to stay.

"Are you seriously proposing that I do?" He chuckles and begins to wash off.

I follow the sanguinary, lethal, crimson trail, circling down the drain. I race out the doorway, making a hastily escape. Dean would not appreciate the display of my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

I found refuge in an empty hallway, taking controlled breaths to calm my ventilation.

"Hey." Dean spoke hesitantly, with cautious steps to match his tone.

"Yes." I whisper back. Just stay away, I thought. These are the effects of your cause.

"I thought I'd come to make sure you're okay. You bolted out of the room in the blink of an eye, what gives?"

Declaring Dean as one to not hover over someone-was a huge mistake, one that I will not be making again.

"I need to be alone, please." I force out the words, choking on them as they come.

I hear his footsteps approaching, each louder than the one taken before. "You look green." He states, simply. "I think it's safe to say, it's a homage to that jacket you're wearing."

"Go away." I say, positioning myself so I could walk ahead, afraid to raise my head to meet his gaze.

"Can you even walk on your own?" I don't have to look up to know his stare is fixed on me, analyzing my every move.

I shrug, "Why wouldn't I be able to, I'm fine."

I'm not one to ask others for help when I know I am more than capable of watching over myself. Did he expect me to proclaim and acknowledge my unbalanced stability in hopes that he would lend me a helping hand? I'd crawl if I had to.

Dean seemed genuinely worried about my well-being that he finally decided to go against my word and put his arm around my waist, pulling my left arm over his shoulder. My body betrayed me and I found myself slanting laboriously into his hold over me on the way to the east bedroom.

"If you could just let me sit to regain myself, I should be back to normal again." I tell him, pointing at the bed.

He helped me maneuver myself to the bed and get settled. I was still a bit dizzy, so I slouched over on my side. It seemed to have helped my cause, subsiding the whirling inside my head to a minimum.

"Olivia?" Dean called, nervously. "Olivia?"

I compressed my eyes together, sensing that horrible feeling starting to inch it's way out into the horizons. Or, maybe it was just the feeling of nausea and I was trying to keep from throwing up.

_Flashback..._

"Olivia." I heard his distinct voice in the distance. "What's wrong?"

I felt embarrassed at the thought of him seeing me in this state. He'd surely never let it die down.

"Are you in pain?" He sounded worried this time around.

"El." I pronounce.

"Liv." He mimicked, he crouched down next to the flat bench I laid on. His presence so close, I could feel his cool-mint breath on my skin, and it proved to be a complimenting antidote for my scorching skin.

I had to make myself understand that if his innocent actions flared this tingly sensation within me, then, it might not be a good idea to keep him around for the time being. "Go away." I groaned, arms still over my sealed eyes, blocking anything from furthering my headache.

"And miss the sight of you internally battling the three stages of hell? Nah," He shrugs, playing off of my expression. "I'd rather savor the moment."

I glared at him and he reciprocated with a grin, resting is left arm on my stomach, his right palm holding the weight of his head.

"You look dreadful." He coughed to hide his laughter.

"You have a unique way with words, El." I place my arms on my stomach as well. "Charming."

"So, tell me, how is it that you're a detective and you can handle rapists, pedophiles, criminals, etc., but cringe at the sight of blood?" He asked, amusement lingering-animating his manner.

I opt to ignore him, pressing my lips together, all while fighting the urge to eject the contents of my stomach. I raised one hand to my clammy forehead, whipping the little beads of sweat.

"Does this apply to your own blood too?" He continued to probe, still fascinated by my rarity.

I sit up, causing his arm to fall on the way. Everything would have appeared to be normal had I not sat up so harshly. "Head rush." I spill the words, shutting my eyes.

"Just lay back down." He sat opposite of me, clutching on to my shoulder blades in attempts to help me steady, since I refused to lay again.

The nausea was seeping gradually and I felt as if I had regained all previous strength lost, so, I decided to test the waters just to make sure. I opened my eyes carefully, the room seemed not to be spinning any longer and there was only one Elliot starring back at me. Things were back in order.

"I suppose so, yes." I revert my eyes away from the somber, oppressive image of lockers and glance towards Elliot.

"You suppose what, exactly." He removes his clamped hands away my shoulders, crossing them over his chest, as he furrows his eyebrows.

I sigh, rolling my eyes, knowing that gratifying smile painted in delicate strokes-all to well. "Blood makes me squeamish." I confess in humiliating weakness. "Are you satisfied or would you like me to paint you a picture? Or, maybe, you'd prefer that I explain with apples and oranges."

"What can I say, when I'm right-I'm right!" He grinned.

"Ha. Ha." I ready myself to stand, but, bump my head with his as he tried to get to his feet too.

"Ow." I whimper softly, gazing into his eyes as we both fell back to our previous positions.

"I believe that's my bad." He admits, chuckling a bit. "Hmm, let me take a look." He draws in forward, cupping my chin in his large hand, tipping my head sideways-examining thoroughly. "No apparent signs of blood, you should fine."

He met my eyes and we both froze-unmoving. Neither of us spoke, choosing instead to tip the hands of fate, starring in each others eyes-dangerously for an immeasurable amount of time.

I felt a magnetic wave pulling me in further-a commanding, unstoppable force, the little voice in the back of my head insisted that that I stop, persisting aimlessly that this could only end badly and from there-preceding to worse. He must have felt the magnetic pull too because he moved closer, throwing caution to the wind.

His fevered breath trailing on my lips made it impossible to think clearly, worrying me deeply because now was the time I needed to the most. He dropped his eyes to my lips and back up to my eyes again, asking for permission and I did not have it in me to deny him that.

He tilted his head slowly, inching forward and just when he was about to touch his perfect, architecture lips with mine, something inside spurred the sound of reason, making it possible for me to turn away.

He sighed, waiting patiently for me to redirect back to him.

I wanted to be able to able to look him in the eyes, but, I just couldn't sum up the courage.

"You look better." Elliot murmured against my cheek, "This shade of color synchronizes with your natural skin tone. It suits you." He slid off the bench to leave the locker-room.

A seldom part of me embarrassingly believed he was provoking the rush of rosy glow to redden vigorously.

Had he gone entirely mad? Had we?

_End Flashback_

"How you feeling?" He asks, the crease in his forehead demonstrating concern.

I give him my attention, grateful for the interruption.

"Much better." I reply.

He studies my delivery, searching for the sincerity.

"Thanks." I add.

"Okay, well, I can see that you are doing better, so, I'll just leave you to be and catch up with you later." He smiled, rising from the bed.

"Wait, what about the whole EDG thing? Isn't that the reason you came in the first place?"

"I left a file on the nightstand with everything you need to know. You should do fine." He guaranteed. "I'll lock up and you just stay here and rest."

He waves, stepping out into the hallway. "Oh, and don't forget to get something to eat." He winks.

I nodded, stiffing the laugh I felt inside. I rolled on my side, clutching my arms around my waist only to remember I was still wearing the jacket. I stripped it off, along with my boots, and fell back comfortably.

I fastened my eyes, secluding the images and voices from my subconscious for another time or day.


	5. How Does It Feel

**Disclaimer:** I don't own L&O: SVU or any of its characters, it/they belong to Dick Wolf/NBC. This story is just meant for entertainment purposes and I am not making any profit out of this nor do I intend to. It's all in good fun.

**A/N**: So, um, yeah I feel like a douche bag for not posting any updates sooner but I was trying to get my wrestling FanFic up to the same level as this one, and then I thought of making videos for the chapters in the story, I have just posted up one though and another E/O video but that one doesn't have anything to do with the FanFic, I'm working on the other videos for the other chapters and I'm grateful now because this school year semester is finally over for me, so it should be interesting, MORE UPDATES REGULARLY, but um....the wait is finally over 'cause it's here now and it feels so great to have put up the latest chapter like you have no idea, because I assure you that it's going to get SO GOOD! I'm not going to drag on the days while in her tenure in Oregon, just a little bit like the show did and BAM the two months undercover in Oregon will be over and...Hello, NEW YORK! Then we'll find out how everyone will react to Olivia's homecoming, especially Elliot, because, come on...he is really the only reaction we care about when things revolve around Olivia and vice versa! OMG, by the way have you guys been keeping up, not with the Kardashians, BUT WITH SVU? Omg, it's to die for, right? I personally was expecting more of the Elliot and Olivia in the episode of Ace to act like a more classic married couple, you know from way back in the day when they were into the whole marriage thing, but, they definitely hit the part of modern day married couple, but still, would it have killed them to finally give us the kiss between them that we have been dying to see! I think not, but it's whatever because I'm starting to believe that it's not going to happen, we'd need more than a miracle for that to happen. Uh, anyways, I'll stop with the rambling again, so you can finally get the story, um, this chapter was inspired by Avril Lavigne's How Does It Feel, hope you like it. Any questions, comments, concerns, feel free to let me know. Buh-Bye, KKDollZ! ; )

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**How Does It Feel**

**I know the night is not the same as the day: that all things are different, that the things of the night cannot be explained in the day, because they do not then exist, and the night can be a dreadful time for lonely people once their loneliness has started.**

**-Ernest Hemingway**

I awoke from my subconscious with the deafening ringing of a cell phone. I hazily reached over to the nightstand, bringing up the thin inhabitant of noise to my ear. "Benson." I answer routinely out of habit, only thereafter realizing the error of my mistake.

"You're lucky it's me on the other end, otherwise, we'd be in deep-you and I." Dean verbalized into words.

"Yeah, I know, it won't happen again." I solemnly promise, feeling like the world's biggest idiot. "Listen, I'm sorry...about everything. I know that I haven't been holding up my end of the deal and that I haven't exactly been the best or easiest to work alongside with and I just wanted you to know that it won't happen any longer from hereafter." I voice earnestly into the phone.

"It's understandable. It takes time to adjust when experiencing a new transitions in ones' life, at least, you're acknowledging it now and that is all that I can ask of you regarding the issue, just don't do it again." He snickered, amusedly entertained. "Anyway, how are you feeling? Better?"

I nod, but then remember he can't see me. "Well, before you left, I told you that I was feeling much better, now, considering that you are gone...I must be feeling a hell of a lot better than before. Thanks for asking though."

"As long as your well, that's all that matters." He joked. "Have you eaten anything yet?"

"Yeah, I ate." I decide to just leave it at that, not sure of what to say to him in regards of what I've supposedly eaten. I'm not entirely aware of what kind of restaurants or food markets are established here locally, so, I select the easier option out of his questioning. Besides, I'm not even hungry anymore.

"Is that why your voice sounds so groggy?"

"Well, that's because I just woke from a nap that I took after I ate." I add, in a coated matter-of-fact response.

"Okay, Mmm-Hmm, yeah." He snips.

"Only because I just woke up and I lost my appetite, and, when I find it again...I will most definitely be eating something."

"Well, that's great to hear because you see, after I left your house, I have to admit that I felt shamefully guilty for not stocking up the kitchen, so I took the liberty of going grocery shopping for you. I hope you don't mind?" He disclosed through the other end of the telephone.

It's not_ my_ house, I shook my head as he spoke the words, causing a loose strand of hair to fall across my face. I took possession of it, flicking the lock of hair behind my left ear as I sat up in bed to lean against the headrest. "Uh, no, actually I appreciate that. Thanks."

"Okay, good, you're welcome. Well, Olivia, I have got to go, so, I'll talk with you soon and remember to review the file I left on your nightstand. Goodbye." He delivers, with a shimmer of unwillingness to hang up.

Ugh, it's not _my_ nightstand either, Dean. "Sure, I will. Buh-bye." I affirm, before ending the call by pressing the little red button, located on the lower-righthand corner of the cell phone.

I place the phone back on the nightstand and exchange it for the file that Dean mentioned in our previous conversations, dropping it to lay on my lap to cover my mouth with my right palm while I yawn. I take hold of the file in my hands again, opening it to study. I recognize the crucial necessity behind the contemplation of having to overlook the case file to entrust familiarity with it, but, I just can't seem to make myself focus. Every time I intend to muse over it, the words blur and scatter into meaningless hocus pocus.

It proved to be disastrous and out of the question. I couldn't concentrate, so, I figured since I yearned for a cup of coffee, why not just go make something to eat and take a little break from all the chaos summoning in my head. Ugh, I really loath procrastination, but, what would be the use in it now if I won't be retaining anything in.

I gradually make my way through the house, stumbling across those horrific pictures again. I remembered all to quickly upon setting my gaze on them that I had forgotten to tell Dean to remove them, so, I decide to take action into my own hands, snatching the picture frames carefully as to not break and destroy them in the process. Once they had been safely stacked against the wall and resting on the floor did I look around for a box or something of the sort to set them in. Just when I'm about to give up in hopelessness of the situation, I spot a lonesome closet in the far neglected corners of the house that I have somehow failed to take into account. I approached the closet deliberately, why, I have no concrete idea. I mean, it's not like I was half expecting to find a secret passageway to the wonderful bizarre world of Narnia. I guess it's because Hollywood movies always place such suspense on what's behind closet door number one, when really, it's all in the imagination and if you psych yourself out, then, nothing good ever awaits.

Finally reaching the door, opening briskly, I rummage through the closet mess in search of what I'm looking for-something that can be of usefulness in my dilemma and almost as if a miracle from the gods of necessities in desperate times, I found a decent sized plastic box or container thing-not exactly sure which of the two to categorize it under, but, it'll do. I paced back to the hallway, packing the load of picture frames in the tight, rigid space that would become their home from here on forward until I left. After returning the plastic box into the closet to be forgotten and unseen by curious eyes, I stepped into the kitchen, acutely observing the cabinets for something to eat.

"No coffee, just tea. Fantastic." I sighed, thinking to myself about how little Dean knew me-in his defense though, he really doesn't.

"Hmmm, I really shouldn't put him on a pedestal and expect so much out of him. He's no Elliot-that's for sure, but I shouldn't place such adverse judgement on him." I speak-silently to myself, thinking how mad I've become in the span of just hours, to the level of having to talk to myself to fill the vase space of emptiness in me. I think now I realize the heavy and true meaning of what Dalai Lama meant when he said, 'We can live without religion and meditation, but we cannot survive without human affection'. Wow, I think I must be experiencing a self-revelation here, because, all this time I thought that I never minded being alone. I guess, I might have been wrong in believing that me, myself, and I was more than enough when reveling in company.

I lost my train of thought when I heard the pop of the toaster, signaling that the pair of strawberry Pop-tarts were ready to eat. I served myself a glass of organic milk and ditched the kitchen to sit in the hazelnut colored couch, placing the glass of milk and plate of Pop-tarts on top of the crystal-clear coffee table. I thought briefly on what to occupy myself with as I munched on the edges of the pastry snack, ultimately settling to watch whatever nonsense was playing now on the silver screen. I reached over for the TV remote control, channel surfing, not really captivated by any particular show, that is until I found one of my favorite all-time movies, _Sabrina_, starring Humphrey Bogart, Audrey Hepburn, and William Holden. I sat staring at the screen, hoping to find an escape into some ideal fantasy world and forget about my own troubles, even if just for a few hours.

I payed close attention to the movie the first few minutes of it, but somewhere along the way I wondered off into the distant memories. Ugh, call me stupid and pathetic, but, like I said-I can't help it!

_Flashback..._

"...we want you to make bail and jump as Persephone." Dana informed me, with all the enthusiasm and hopefulness one person alone should never be able to exude-let alone contain.

I stood there for a few seconds just shaking my head, trying to wrap myself around the idea of what she had just said. I felt speechless, what did she expect me to do? Be ecstatic about her offer when I already had everything going on for me here in New York, why would I want to trade this in for something else. "Star, I can't do that."

"Andy thinks you're a bona fide member of EDG." She insisted, clearly not taking no for an answer. "You have successfully infiltrated. Do you know how impossible that is?"

I take in a deep-calculated breath, attempting to make her see reason as to how this mission would be absolutely pointless. "Andy Dell has gone back to Oregon."

"Yeah, I know." She explains, obvious tone.

I vehemently keep shaking my head, feeling at times at a lost for words that I feel as if it is the only form of communication that I can muster towards her until my lips can project coherent, verbalized sentences. "Thank you very much, but I already have a job."

"For Haley." She is resorted to say.

I really wished she hadn't of done that, playing that card was like a low-blow. She knows I can't say no when she does that. I exhale an exhausted breath, "For Haley."

End Flashback

I jumped off the hazelnut couch taking the now empty glass of organic milk and plate to wash and dry. I sighed taking a look at my surroundings. Maybe if I finished that walk that I was going to take this morning, things could become clearer, my head would be allowed sanity and rest. I just need to know that I can breath. I raced for my boots and jacket, heading out to venture into the streets of Portland after turning off the TV screen that was now playing a Grace Kelly movie.

I took two steps and stopped, feeling unsure. I still had mixed feelings about being here. Shaking the feeling away, I continued to walk slowly, it was funny to find the street deserted of busy bodies, I just wasn't used to it, but somehow, strangely enough the loneliness made me feel self-conscious. The neighborhood houses around me look like rarities, so...quiet, as if only for show on some pending Paramount studio set, but still alive with watchful eyes. I could feel their strong stares of curiosity, gazing at the new oddity. That's it! Someone must be analyzing me. Maybe that's why I have this uneasy feeling? I watched through the corners of my eyes, the weariness refusing to leave. I stopped in place again when I heard movement in the bushes in front of one of the houses.

I waited patiently for something or someone to reveal themselves by peering out of the bushes, but nothing.

I turned, facing forward, sucking in a huge breath. I was being completely ridiculous, but that's when I heard it. The rattling in the bushes again, and as I neared it carefully, a black cat leaped out of the rustling bushes, appearing on scene. I limped backwards awkwardly. The sleek, black cat hissed at me, staring intently with its glistening, snakelike eyes.

A cat? I was suspicious of a cat?

I bent down on the ground in front of it. It tilted its head, a lost glint in its deranged, glossy eyes. I reached around its red collar, straightening it to get a better view of it. It hissed a second time, and with one harsh stroke, its sharp claws scratched at the top of my hand.

"Ow!" I whined, backtracking my hand away from it. It didn't take long for the red liquid to surface. I winced at the sting of the wound, how could something so small be so hazardous? I suppose this goes to show that no good deed goes unpunished.

I stood there, staring back at that furry thing, contemplating to help. I caved in. "Shhh, I was only trying to help." I soothed, cautiously extending my hand to stroke it gently.

"It's okay. I won't hurt you." I said, cradling the fragile animal in my arms. "Now, why don't I help you find your way back home? What do you say?" I glanced around the neighborhood, wondering where to begin, but all it caused was to make me feel small in a world so empty and big.

I walked aimlessly around the neighborhood for hours, not really knowing the direction that I was going, but choosing instead on being guided by the pavements for direction. I came to a stop at a crosswalk, realizing for the first time how dark it was actually getting. I sighed, glancing down to look at the cat's form nesting on my arms. "Maybe we'll have better luck tomorrow." I whispered, walking back to the house. "In the meantime, why don't you spend the night with me? Does that sound like a good idea?" The cat purred and I half-smiled in response.

I unlocked the house, letting us in with ease, and then setting the cat on the wooden floor to create one of those plush cat beds they are always most likely than not sleeping in. I finish and soon thereafter back away to admire it from afar. I nod, turning to the lower right of me for the cat's approval. The cat seemed to like it fairly well as it curled itself, getting comfortable on the plush bed.

After I was done with the caring of the cat, I changed into a pair of sweats and a plain white T-shirt before washing my face and cleansing the dry blood from the scratch with an antiseptic. Finally I was ready to sleep. I crawled into bed that night, grateful for the quiet, taking one last glance at the slumbering cat before I sealed my eyes, hoping to rapidly fall asleep by exhaustion, too bad that good luck was starting to avoid me.

I layed in bed mind-numbingly, staring at the shadowy figures on the walls due to the objects in the room and tiny sparks of light falling from the night's moonlight onto the walls to project illusions. I traced patterns over the figures in midair, manipulating them into collisions of line segments. I couldn't believe how much work it would actually took for sleep to take over, but finally exhaustion had won the battle.

"I thought you got blown up?" John said in his usual sarcasm as Elliot made his way into the precint.

"Yeah, well, why put me out of my misery, you know?" Elliot responded, reaching John and Fin.

"Welcome home, man, glad you're okay."

"Thanks," Elliot turned to his right, a little taken aback. "What's with Liv's desk?"

"It's a little early for spring cleaning." John brought up the fact.

"Where's Liv?" Elliot asked of Don, detaching himself from John and Fin to meet directly from Don.

Don stopped chattering with another one of the detectives to give all his attention to Elliot and the two curious detectives taking a stand behind him. "Temporary reassignment."

"Where?" Elliot voiced meekly, but expecting an answer.

"I can't say." Don disclosed, truthfully.

Elliot pouted his lips, nodding as if he understood and was content with his little insight. "She still with the Feds on that eco-terror case?" He offered.

"Can't say." Don repeated sternly.

Elliot raised his eyebrows, not really knowing how else to rephrase his questions to get more detailed answers out of him. "How long's she gone for?" He said as his last resort.

Don took a second to recollect his thoughts, "Real estate is at a premium around here. We need the desk for your new partner." He finished is last sentence quickly, preferring instead to walk pass him before he and the guys could hassle him with more questions.

I flashed my eyes open, gasping for air in the middle of the opaque that was now refusing to let pass any light from the night sky in to the room. I brushed my tangled hair out of my face with my fingers, turning to my side, barely able to make out the form of the cat as it jumed onto the bed, purring towards me to make room for it at my side. I allowed the cat to cuddle next to me, feeling like I needed someone elses presence nearby to reassure me that I wasn't alone-I hopelessly, needed the reassurance now more than ever because the night and darkness togeher were now dawning on me such irrational insecurities-more so when I slept.

I sighed carefully into the silence. "Temporary new partner, El." I whispered softly, yet defensively as I stroked the cat's fur gently.

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** A/N**: Um, in case you want to check out my E/O videos my username is ArEaCoDe619 over at youtube, ALSO I intended to put up chapter 6 because of the lack of updates, but I have a quick errand to run and I really want to get it out of the way before the new episode of SVU starts, so I'll try to update that chapter when it's over, if not tomorrow morning, Promise! ; ) Because I know you guys probably thought or think that this chapter wasn't anything great, sorry, but that's the way things played out in my head when writing it, maybe I just wasn't feeling very creative that day, I mean I did make Olivia eat and drink what I had that day, see...there you go, enough said. Okay, well, like I said I'll update soon ; ) Bye, E/O Lovers!


	6. No Sunlight

**Disclaimer**: I don't own L&O: SVU or any of its characters, it/they belong to Dick Wolf/NBC. This story is just meant for entertainment purposes and I am not making any profit out of this nor do I intend to. It's all in good fun.

**A/N:** EOMG, where do I began! SO SORRY AND EMBARRASSED! Yes, I really am truly. I know that I said that I would update after the season finale of L&O SVU on the same day I posted the fifth chapter, or something along the lines, but my laptop got sick with an awful virus and I had to go get it fixed! I know, don't you just hate those god-awful viruses! Then I went to visit my sister out of state and that was around the whole SATC premiere thing, so we had ourselves a SATC week. By the way, I totally fell in love...with the movie of course. If you didn't watch, hate to break it to you, but you missed out-it was that great, no joke. Okay, so, when I returned I had to get all organized again and I started school like two days after I returned and it just became impossible for me to update regularly. So, for all that I'm so sorry, but I'm almost positive that I already lost you guys, right? But, I swear the story makes up for it later, all in due time, we have to build the foundation first, remember? One more month, give or take a week, and I'll be out of school and you'll see more updates-pinky swear! Um, OH! I also got SO addicted-and I do mean ADDICTED, to making videos for youtube, I really needed an intervention...where were you guys, seriously?Jeez, talk about when it matters the most! Anyway, I'm over it. I just get these video crazes from time to time, but it's out of my system...for now!Buahahaha!Kidding-kidding, where's your sense of humor? O_o So yeah, if you are wondering, the tiny amount of time I had went to piecing the videos together, that are on my youtube channel for that matter, so you guys should definitely go check them out, my username is ArEaCoDe619 and there's a lot of EO to go around. Oh, and** eoforever94,** Elliot's not dead, he's just still in New York while Olivia is undercover in Oregon. Olivia is just having these constant nightmares, that's all, she really misses her old life (tear) Hmm, I wonder why? (wink, wink ; ) Also, I really wanted the story to stay true to the characters on TV, but it's not working out so much, so it's like constant OOC, but it's whatever, right...I hope. Oh, and **eoforever94**, It follows post episode Informed in season 8, so this is where the story unfolds. So, again guys, if you haven't gotten this far into SVU-it contains spoilers, so sorry of you are like "Oh, WTF! Holly-shiz balls!" Okay, now that everything has been cleared as mud, we can get on with the story. Um, this chapter was inspired by Death Cab For Cutie-No Sunlight. Uh, this chapter is really bizarre, or at least I think so, but I was just lazy to edit-actually it was more like fear because I didn't want to edit and have to edit the rest of the chapters, and I tried, but it was like blah, blah, blah! Until finally, I was like...you know what, fck-it, is what it is. So, um, happy reading to all, and tell me what you think, or if you don't want to that's cool too. Okay, well, now I have to go thank Ron Artest's psychiatrist, so be back laterz!

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**For everything you have missed, you have gained something else, and for everything you gain, you lose something else.**

**-Ralph Waldo Emerson**

**No Sunlight**

I hurried myself to remember the essential keynotes of the case study, making sure to also keep in mind the time so that I wouldn't go beyond my self-imposed deadline. God forbide that Dean call again regarding the matter at hand and I appear to be somewhat lost. No, I couldn't give him any ammunition after I solemly promised him that I would be more alert on the case.

I repeated the case silently to myself, constraining that it stayed in mind. Of course, it didn't take long for the case-study to imprint in my head.

It was still bright and early in the morning with a cool breeze when I last finished covering all my bases. I looked down to my wrist watch and read the hour of the day. I bit my bottom lip gently, I still had enough time to search for the cat's owner before I had to appear in one of the eco-activists rallies.

I drank the rest of my remaining orange juice and then clasped on my now signature, puke-green jacket. I suppose in a way it was a type of security blanket for me because being here was so depressing, I needed the comfort and stability that the jacket provided for me bizarrely. I spotted the cat staring closely out the window and then move around the common area briskly to reach the front door; feeling the urge to get out, it began to claw and meow for release into the outdoors.

"Okay, okay, relax. We're going." I grabbed the keys and bent down to embrace the cat in my arms. "Now, where do you want to start...left or right?" The cat looked at me with curious eyes.

"I guess right it is then." I felt the cat shiver in my arms as the gush of breeze flew in our direction.

I looked around the neighborhood simultaneoulsy for any signs that someone might own a cat, or, a pet for that matter. I spotted a couple of kids playing in the front lawn. They looked like the type of kids that could own a pet or the type that would know who this cat might belong to.

"Hey," I approached them slowly. "My name is Ol-eh...Persephone. I found this cat last night and I was wondering where I could find the owner of it, either of you happen to know the answer to that by any chance?"

The smaller and more freckled of the two nodded her head, "That's Kip. He's Ethan's cat."

"Right, Ethan's cat." I shook my head yes. "Do you know where this Ethan lives so I can return the cat?"

"Mmm-Hmm." The tall, skinny boy, standing next to the girl; who could very well be his sister, replied. "In a house with doors and windows over on the other side of the neighborhood." He said, pointing in the direction I should go.

"Hey, may I help you?" The women walking over to us spoke.

"Actually, you can-"

"She found Kip, mom!" The young boy voiced. "See, Ethan's cat." He patted the top of Kip's head lightly.

"Yes, that's correct. I jus-"

"She wants to return Kip home." The toddler finished for me.

The mild wind brushed my hair across my face and I pushed the untamed strands out of my face to look at the woman. "What he said."

The woman analyzed me carefully. "Are you new here because I don't believe I've ever seen you around the neighborhood before?"

"Yes. I just moved here a couple of houses down from yours...if you ever need anything."

"Thank you." She shot me a friendly smile. "I'm Cynthia Moore, by the way." She held out her hand in front of her.

I took her hand in mine to shake. "Great meeting you. I'm Persephone James."

"Likewise. And, these are my children, Carly and Scott Moore, which you already technically met." She giggled.

"Technically, yeah." I smiled back. "Hey, guys." I waved.

They responded with a quick hello before their mother, Cynthia, spoke again after watching the cat squirm in my hold. "Anyway, we won't detain you much longer." She affirmed. "Ethan lives over on the other side of the neighborhood in the white house between the reddish-brown, cobblestone house and the olive-green house. It shouldn't be hard to find."

"Thank you for the help. I'll see you guys around, it was lovely meeting you." I waved one last time and made my way towards Ethan's house.

Finding his house wan't difficult at all, even though I hadn't been here before. It was located right where Cynthia Moore had said it would be.

I advanced to the front porch, ringing the door bell and waiting patiently for an answer. I looked down at my watch counting the minutes that had passed me by while I waited for someone to respond, three minutes. I huffed a soft breath and opted to ring the door bell again.

"Can I help you?" The voice behind me wondered.

"I'm Persephone James," I informed him, turning my head to give him a sideways glance, and observed the instant discernment that plagued his dark eyes in a way that I did not quite understand.

"So I hear," he stated.

I shook my head in confusion, inquiring where he was getting at. "Uh..."

"Overhead some of the neighbors talking about your arrival on my way here." He added.

Ah, my third day in this city and I'm already the theme of conversation. This is much like high school and junior high...a lot of gossip-no doubt.

"Good things, I hope." I cross my fingers, summoning up all the luck in the universe.

"Well, you are the new curiousity...they don't know much about you, so they feel the need to spread the tedious gossip."

"That bad, huh?" I approached him on the stoop, taking in his whole appearance for the first time since our conversation started. A tall, lanky man with jet-black curls, stood firm on the ground.

He shrugged, "It gets better in time. I should know firsthand."

I nodded, stroking the cat absentmindedly. "When did it get better for you?"

He slipped his hands in his pocket, "Um," He shifted his gaze to the ground, scratching the back of his head with his left hand, and then raising his eyes again to face me. "Upon your arrival, I would say things started to simmer down."

"Sweet." I tell him sarcastically.

"No, I'm just messing with you. It's how I get my ya-ya's." He revealed, moving in front of the door.

"Yeah, I see." I sighed.

He smirked. "Have you come by to bring home my missing cat, Kip?"

"I suppose I am, if you are in fact Ethan?"

"You suppose correct." He turned to unlock the door. "May I?" He stood in the middle of the doorway, extending his hands to take the cat.

"Yeah, sure, of course." I gave him his cat to take, while I stood there fumblingly.

"Thank you for bringing my cat back home safely to me, and caring for it in my absence." He let Kip inside his house, closing the door behind him, and walking back across the space between us.

"You're welcome." I stare at his sudden movements.

He gave me a friendly, lightening look. "I have to say that it's enlightening to finally meet the "famous" Persephone James."

"I wouldn't say enlightening...just yet."

"So, where are you headed to, Persephone?" He asked.

I slip my hand in the back of my jean pocket to read the address I scribbled on the Post-it before I left the house. "Um, here," I show him the piece of paper. "Where ever this is..."

He nodded, rubbing his chin with his fingers. "I can accompany you there, I'm taking part in that rally too."

I thought about it briefly, meeting the curious stares of a couple of bystanders as they tended to their front lawns.

I nodded, thinking that maybe having him walk me to the rally could be beneficial; he could have some insights to the eco-terror case. "Thanks."

"I'm Ethan Daniels by the way." He added when we started walking away from his home and onto the sidewalk.

"So, where are you from originally?" He asked.

I thought about lying at first, but he did look like the talkative, overbearing, over-helpful type, that I just decided to tell him the truth of where I'm originally from, besides, I've never really been out of the state long enough to trully be captivated by what other states or countries have to offer. And, technically, Persephone is from New York, that's where I first met here.

"New York."

"New York." He gave me a lopsided smile. "I've been meaning to visit there, how is it?"

"Great, I guess, if a change of pace is what you're looking for."

"It must be something amazing to wake up to the city every day." He moved his gaze forward.

"Blatant is more like it." I told him.

"Where is your designer duds, Ms. Manhattan?" He pulled gently at the hem of the jacket.

"I lived in the streets for the better part of my life."

He examined my face in alarm, and I groaned under my breath. It seemed to be as if sunny, green, and sarcasm didn't mesh well together in this city. How am I ever going to survive this place.

We sauntered to our destination after what seemed like forever, well, if forever was only half an hour away from now, but that trip just seemed extremely long. Maybe it was just that Ethan wanted to talk about everything and anything, making the walk seem more excruciating and longer than what it should have been.

"Well, we're here." He felt the need to point out the obvious, even though it was clear by the busy bodies taking part in the rally.

"Are you good on your own, or, do you want me to stick around?" He sounded hopeful.

"I'll be all right on my own." I assured him.

"Okay, well, maybe I'll see you around some other time and we could hang out then." He stated, the hopefullness still intact.

I smiled at him faintly before walking in a different direction.

The rest of the morning passed by in the same rhythm. There wasn't anything that really stood out of the day in particular, just the same bulging-curious eyes of every witness in sight that ever crossed paths with me. I felt awkward of all things, and mostly like a huge imposter-an intruder. It was excruciating to realize the depth of my own insecurities.

After thirteen days of taking part in the organization, my mind started to register various faces within the organization as well. People were beginning to be a whole lot more friendlier towards me, becoming bolder with the passing of each day. They were starting to sum up the courage to come up to me and introduce themselves followed by sharing some unimportant small-talk. It was really helpful and less stressful for me when they started making an effort because now I didn't have to take such an initiative to get things going in the right direction, to mold formal relationship with them all. I guess all I needed was just some time to reasure me that things would soon fall into place. Although, a part of me really did feel just awful for having to lie to them-a lot, they didn't necessarily deserve to be lied to. They seemed really genuine and here I was lying to them about everything, feeling remorseful as they gathered up the piles of lies and interpreting them as the truth. My mother had a tendancy to lie a lot, I suppose that is where it all comes from. My likes and dislikes always came back to her full circle as the sole cause of it all.

There was this one young woman who really insisted on lending a helping hand, she seemed to be very desperate, always wanting to be a part of everything I happened to be a part of. I guess one can think of her as the annoying little sister that always wants to be attached to you at the hip, and try as you may-you can't seem to falter her...well, I think that's how it goes from what I've observed...I never had any siblings, so maybe I'm going out on a limb in comparing the relationship to that situation. After a while though, I got used to her, she became like my shadow, and she acted very sweet towrards me, and she was likable, so I stopped trying to avoid her. She was petite, numerous inches shorter than my five feet nine inches that's for sure, and she had the most healthy, long, radiant, cinannom-blond hair, like the women in the Pantene commercials. I smiled, and nodded, and gave the occasional general response whenever she expected an answer, I was trying too hard to remember her name and I didn't want to break concentration. I couldn't quite get it to click in my brain; however, I could spot her right away in the midst of a crowded place, that ought to count for something. Samantha...Samantha something? No, that wasn't it. Kar...Emm...Lola? No, it rhymed with Billie. Lillie? Millie? I grew bored of trying to guess her name and stopped, just like I had given up on keeping up with the conversation a long time ago. When she talked, nothing could get her to shut up.

She wrapped her arm around my mine, directing me to a table in the middle of a spacious and lively park where all her other friends sat, she enthusiastically introduced me to them one-by-one, but I forgot all their names as soon as they rolled out her tongue, I was too busy reminscing in the time that I had been introduced to the guys at the precinct for the first time. I briefly took the time to at least offer them a friendly smile and that's when I noticed the owner of the cat, Ethan, waved at me from the head of the table.

I sat there among six strangers sitting before and around me, eyeing me with their engrossed-intrusive stares, I tried mostly to observe and listen-only speaking when spoken to, which was more often than I would have liked, but I always managed to deflect the conversation back to them concurrently. I pretended to be deep in thought with the converstion that was being had, but really all I could do was stare at everything and anything that wasn't them, I needed a distraction from all this. I sighed, circling the palms of my hands around my neck to keep it in position, and flatly resting the back of my upper-ams on the wooden table. I heard the cheerful sound of laughter coming from the frolicking children in the park and admired their careless, happy, exciting, free-spirited nature. I subconsciously shut my eyes and remebered simpler times when my life resembled that of theirs now...lying in the grass and feeling so safe in a warming bath of sunlight, vast open sky could do no harm. But, with every year that came to pass, more clouds appeared-the sky went black, and there was no sunlight anymore.

"Hey, are you okay?" The girl who's name I believed to rhythm with Billie asked. She pressed her clammy hand against my forehead.

I fluttered my eyes open and shook my head lightly. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"I don't know, you just zoned out of the conversation and checked yourself into your own little universe again."

"I was just remebering this...thing...that I have to do." I grimaced internally as the words spilled slowly out of my mouth.

"A thing?" She stared with curious eyes, and a dash of hurt, maybe because I hadn't included her in this "thing" but truth is...this "thing" didn't even exist.

I nod. "Yeah, it's just this thing that I have to go do...um, I promised I would and I can't back out now on such a short notice." I smiled warmly at her, hoping she would just let it be and stop pressing the issue.

"Oh, I see, well," she masked her dissapointment. "I guess I'll just catch up with you later, okay?"

"Mmm-hmm." I nod again before saying my goodbyes to everyone else and making it across the green grass.

"Hey, Persie!" I cringe at the nickname they have all given me, it was just too much-too soon. Too attached, too formal, too welcoming. "Wait for me!"

I stop and turn to come face-to-face with Ethan. "Yeah,"

"Mind if I walk you home? I'm on my way there...so,"

I raise and eyebrow toward him and glance behind him to spot a snoopy, curly-haired brunette staring at the interaction between us-not caring that I had caught her in the act.

"I...uh," I remove my gaze from hers and direct back at Ethan. "Well, I'm not exactly heading home."

He smiked. "You don't have to lie, I get it."

"Get what?"

He huffed, a bit irritated with my inability to grasp the obviousness in his tone when he spoke. "I know you lied to Amber about having to go do something, but you don't have to keep pretenses with me. I get it, and don't worry I won't tell her a thing."

Amber? Whoa, was I off. "Oh, that." I run a hand through my short hair. "Um, well thanks, and I suppose...if you are heading home, what wrong can it do if we walk to the neighborhood together."

I slipped my hands in the back of my jean pockets and began to walk, ignoring at best the eyes that bore to the back of my head.

"So," He walked next me, brushing his arm against mine briefly before creating a bit of a distance between us, but still to close for growing discomfort.

I glanced at him from the corner of my eye and noticed him blush. He attempted to hide it, but was very unsuccessful. I exhaled beginning to feel the awkwardness rising inside of me."Yeah..."

"What's with the whole mysterious, funky attitude that you have going on, it makes it hard to get a read on you. You seem so distant, why is that?"

I close my eyes for a second or two, waiting for the words to form in my head before actually responding back to him. I feel my hands start to slide out of the back jean pockets and curl around my waist, fingers creeping and grasping onto my shirt.

"I wasn't always a freak, if that's what you mean." I say, pondering if my newfound attitude is as evident to everyone else as it is to me.

He smiled, placing a hand on my shoulder to get me to stop. "That's not what I mean at all. I don't think that you're a freak," He debates his next words before resuming to speak. "You are just different than any of the other women around here, but different is good. I like different."

I squint my eyes, tilting my head lightly to study him. "I'm not sure what you mean by that, but thanks...I guess." I play my stupid trump card. I didn't really want him to express his feelings towards me when they were already starting to become more and more evident everytime we were together under any given circumstance. Dealing with this kind of pressure was the last thing I needed right now.

He coughed to clear his throat, shuffling his feet as he followed close behind me. "So, tell me...why do think you're a freak?"

"I don't know, " I shrug, "It seemed appropiate at the time."

He chuckled, "Is that the best you got."

I didn't answer, but not because I didn't want to, it's just that I had nothing to say. I was beginning to find that as the days went by, verbalizing words into coherent sentences was proving to be stressful-if not impossible. He didn't say much after that. I think he must have sensed the emanating weariness that oozed out of my system when I was forced to respond to someone's comments. Although, in an incomprehensible way he seemed content with just walking by my side in silence. A quality of which I was starting to be thankful for, and for the first time since I met him...I think I appreciated his company to the fullest. No small-talk, no forced remarks, no indifferent statements, no pointless chats...just comfortable silence.


	7. Beautiful World

**Disclaimer**: I don't own L&O: SVU or any of its characters (except only the characters that you don't recognize as SVU character, yep those would be mine. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, or just other fictitious characters just roaming around, is coincidental and totally not intended at all by me), it/they belong to Dick Wolf/NBC. This story is just meant for entertainment purposes and I am not making any profit out of this nor do I intend to. It's all in good fun.

**A/N:** I so have been meaning to update and I apologize to all of you who have been reading this fic for lack of updates. Sometimes I don't have time to while other times I just can't seem to find a care in the world for anything at all, I literally can't. I guess that is why sometimes people accuse me of being fickle...because I can be. And I just didn't realize at first how much it takes to write a fic, and okay, I will also admit that I did neglect this fic just a little for my wrestling one but only because they have been more receptive towards it and I find that it makes me more incline to want to update chapters for them as often as I can. And I am not trying to say that they are more appreciative than the SVU community because I am sure that you guys can and are too, but it's just...that's why there hasn't been much updates here...I guess I just felt to a certain degree that you guys deserved and answer. Oh, and a shout-out to** eoforever94 **who seems to maybe enjoy this fic...I think LOL! So how about MH & CM on the Emmys? I know it's late but I haven't been on here and so yeah, I thought they looked...FLAWLESS (yeah, that was kinda wrestling related, so it's ok, I wouldn't expect you guys to get that "LayCool joke" if you could even consider it a joke)! Also thought it was so cute how she had "replica-type wedding dress" thing going on. Vera Wang is very talented, her work is just always beautiful. And I'm sure Peter loving the gesture too, hahaha! And can I just say how much I love the fact that they speak wonders of her when they do those red carpet fashion police type things, and I am not just referring to the one on E! but all of them, and I especially loved when Joan and the rest of her peeps were all like_ she looked like Jayne Mansfield,_ or something along the lines? And then when Jimmy Fallon mentioned MH on Law & Order farewell song at the Emmys, and when MH &CM presented, and then when they walked the red carpet together-I loved it! I guess I just love _it_ all when it pertains to MH & CM...whatever. Anyway, this chapter was inspired by Carolina Liar's Beautiful World, which is kinda how I felt too at the time when I wrote it, but even so I don't think it's super gloomy. I tried not to make it that way and even so I did go back and rewrote it some when I had a clearer head to think with because I didn't want you guys to be like_ urgh_. Also um, this chapter is dedicated to my sister-who is now an EO shipper herself, I taught her well. I spent like a good portion of my summer watching marathons of SVU with here because she hadn't seen the show in a while, and just a little fact for you guys, she actually used to watch SVU before I did, and then later when I started watching I became obsessed with El & Liv and with the show more than she had because she was just interested in it. And then she became more prone to the idea that they do in fact belong together-and there you go, a new EO shipper was born. And one last note regarding the show, I thought they had a good opener with the start of season 12, I am a fan of Joan Cusack since like the Addams Family Values movie, however, I did think Henry Ian Cusick as the pedophile was like so predictable, actually not _like_ because it was-especially when Neal Baer says he's been signed on for two episodes-OBVI! Or maybe it's just that I have been watching this show for way too long that I develop radar for decoding their plots...idk. Having said that, I did enjoy Joan Cusack and Jennifer Love Hewitt's performances-and yes, I did almost die when Elliot caught Olivia on the episode WET, and yes...I was bummed when Mariska didn't win the Emmy (totally off subject), what was one more year in waiting for Kyra anyway? What was 10 more years? BUT, the look on Mariska and Glenn when they heard Kyra's name as the winner just melted my heart-those are genuine winners right there, because they were truly as happy for her as Kyra felt. And yes, those were a lot of notes, or one hell of a long one! Okay, off you guys go, happy reading! **xo-KKDollZ**

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**Beautiful World**

**"The truly scary thing about undiscovered lies is that they have a greater capacity to diminish us than exposed ones. They erode our strength, our self-esteem, our very foundation." **

**— Cheryl Hughes**

I had been up even earlier than usual today, not by choice but more out of obligation, because if it were up to me, I would have preferred to stay in and lie in bed all day. Sure, there might have been a time when I would have rather avoided everything in sight about this house, but now it was all the same to me, trying to find a pigment of concern or care beneath my skin had become useless, or rather, I had become useless. Nothing seemed to matter quite like it did before. I looked up at the digital clock on the nightstand, accepting that now would be as good as any other time. I passed through the hallway and resumed to let myself out of the house.

The morning was clear, the dawn's light exhibiting palettes of pink streaks with feeble indications of purple and green. I breathed in the fresh air deeply, hoping to relieve myself from the throbbing headache, the same throbbing headache that I had gone to bed with last night. I had to admit, I was feeling much better than yesterday night, but the awful headache was still in tact. I tried at best to ignore it because I had promised to meet Dean before getting together with Hope, Ethan, and the rest of the group, and even though I wasn't looking forward to meeting with Dean and everyone else, I knew things would turn out fine.

Dean was living only three streets away from where I was staying, over on the opposite end from where Ethan lived. His home was a relatively simple white house, nowhere near as run-down as some of the houses in his neighborhood. Dean was already standing outside on the porch, and for a moment, I could have sworn it was Elliot my eyes were gazing at, and I immediately felt something unknown tugging at the strings of my heart, picking up the pace of the silent melody it played at the thought of Elliot being in Dean's place. I shook my head angrily, rolling my eyes in the process, I was beginning to really loath the moments of self-induced mind trickery. I sighed dryly, adamantly refusing the developing ache and disappointment inside of me. I had no right to respond in such a way, especially when I haven't even begun to analyze any of it. Everything still remained...complicated.

I quickly offered him a warm, lopsided smile when I noticed the sudden change to confusion and tiny, barely visible spark of hurt. I maybe shouldn't have because it would probably inflate his ego even more, but he looked so vulnerable at that moment when his dark eyes lost that small sparkle to them. I mean, he was good-looking, even if it killed me to admit it. One couldn't deny that. But still, he wasn't good-looking in the attractive, devastating, almost too frightening way that some people actually were, but more along the lines of the healthy Italian American type, but not overly stunning.

"Hey," He held out his had for me to shake, I did. "You ready to work? You want to come inside?"

_No_, was what I really wanted to say, but I refrained from doing so. "Yeah." I nodded, taking my hand back and allowing him to guide me inside.

"So, you never told me about that recent rally you attended with T-Bone and Hope last week," He said.

"I didn't?" I replied back, staring outside the window from where I sat.

He shook his head. "No."

"Hmm, I thought I had." I glanced sideways at him. He was looking out the window as well. "It was actually a more subtle, peaceful protest, one of the few. I liked it, even learned quite a few things I didn't know before."

I handed him the manila folder I held in my arms before continuing. "I have everything you need to know printed for you here. I can walk you through it if you'd like?" I looked up to find his dark eyes firmly placed on my face.

"Sure. Sure, tell me everything you know." He nodded, taking a seat next to me on the couch.

We sat in living room for the better part of the morning, going through every single aspect of the Eco-terror case in detail, fingers crossed that we could get through the case as quickly as possible. Some of the pieces to the case were jagged, making it difficult for us to form a concrete connection, but overall, we had made progress and we were one step closer than we had been at the start of the day. I just hoped that it would be enough.

"I guess we're done." Dean said satisfied, and he began to pick up the case files. His hand landed over mine as he asked. His touch was cordial and comforting, and I snatched it from underneath his rapidly.

"I'm sorry," he uttered almost immediately, turning his attention back to the files. My eyes remained fixed on him, study him momentarily. He was surely confusing, and that made me curious.

"Can you hand me that file over there on your right of the table?" He asked, directing me towards the file.

"Yes," I took the manila folder and handed it to him. He took the folder with caution this time, it seemed like he was trying to avoid touching me again.

"I'll be right back," he said, managing a passing glance in my direction. "I'm going to put these away." He signaled to the files as he walked off.

Which left me with nothing to occupy myself with until he returned. I backed into the couch, wrapping my arms over my stomach, wondering the amount of days I spent in Oregon since my arrival. I closed my eyes, counting silently in my head.

"Twenty-six days," I whispered to myself, opening my eyes wide in disbelief. "Twenty-six, dull, excruciating, dreadful days." I continued aggravated by the slow count of each day. The days seemed to elongate as time went by. And to think that after today would be over and done with, it would be exactly twenty-seven days, but who's counting.

"Are you falling asleep on me?" He exclaimed.

I mumbled a hasty _no_ in reply.

"Do you want something to eat, something to drink..." He asked, standing behind the couch.

I stared at his reflection from the mirror in the living room. "Water would be fine." I looked away from him, thinking to myself again as he walked off into the kitchen.

At least the days weren't all that bad. They got better, or they did if I repeated enough times that they were better. I told myself that they were getting better because I was making a difference. I couldn't quite pinpoint the exact difference that I was making here, but if I thought too much about it then I'd deteriorate the whole illusion around it that kept me sane and determined to do my job here. And, if I sticked to that pattern, then the days got easier for me to manage around because I knew what to anticipate. But, as much as I liked to entertain the idea of them getting better...they got worse too.

It was worse because I didn't know how much longer I could keep up the charade. It was painful just trying to forget, to keep it real and simple, and somehow get out if bed. It got worse because I felt as if there was something I was missing within me, like, like a loose void, making me feel miserable inside. And it only magnified itself knowing that I didn't have Elliot to depend on in situations like these, because I knew that if ever I should falter out of control, he would be there to pick up the pieces. He was like a crutch that I could lean on and vice versa. It hurt to think that he wasn't here...with me.

"Here's the water you asked for," he placed the glass of water on the coaster before settling down on the far end corner of the couch. "It's too bad about the sudden emerge of rain, huh? It must be killing you inside since you don't like the rain."

He remembered.

I orbited my face in the direction of the window, furrowing my eyebrows when my eyes came to meet with the pouring rain outside. "It's raining."

"That's what I just said." He blurted out.

I reached for the glass of water, taking a careful sip. "That wasn't a question."

"Oh," He answered minutes later. "So, now that we're here...why did you decide to become a detective?" He mediated.

"I wanted to help people." I muttered flatly.

"Hmm," He looked intrigued by what I said and I tried not to make too much of it. "Why? I mean, why Special Victims?"

I thought about my response gingerly, I had been asked this question one too many times before, but not once had the question ever been powered by too much demand behind it.

"It's...it's complicated." I revealed, lowly.

"I'm sure I can keep up." He insisted.

I debated with myself over the issue for a while before coming to a conclusion.

"I too am sure that you can,"

"But?" He grinned; his stupid grin, yet still somehow sympathetic.

I sighed, staring into the ceiling. "But, you are asking a lot of personal questions, Dean." I paused, turning to face him. "Without offering any personal information of yours in return."

He peered at me with piercing eyes, harboring more interest in them than before. "So what you're saying, is basically that I have to be stuck with you for about eight years in order for you to disclose any personal information?"

"No." I expressed flatly.

"Okay," he nodded. "So are you going to tell me why you've been so miserable since we got to Oregon, or am I getting to personal with you again?"

"I'm not." I lied, he didn't have to know, I didn't even know why either...just that it was exactly how I felt.

"Of course you're not." He agreed even though it was evident that he disagreed, but he didn't press the subject.

I curved my head to get a better view of him. I caught him still staring at me with amusement. "Are we done here then?"

"You're quite the actress, you know?" He voiced in appraisal. "I'm pretty positive in the fact that you are miserable, but you're just trying to hide it. I just don't understand the sole cause of it. You're a curiosity to me, Olivia. I think I have you all figured out, but then go and change the rules of the game."

"So you think bombarding me with question is going to help you decipher me?"

"It would help." He said slowly.

I scowled, hiding from his view as best as I could, ignoring and resisting the strong impulse to strike him down.

"I'm right, aren't I?"

I refused to acknowledge him.

"I knew it." He revealed confidently.

"What's it to _you_ anyway? Hmm, it's not like it matters." I delivered in annoyance, keeping my eyes focused on the floor tile.

"I'm not even sure myself," He whispered, angrily to himself, caught in his own cluster of confusion. He stood from the couch, walking over to lean on one of the walls, taking comfort in the silence.

I ran my fingers through the side of my hair, quietly cursing at the rain.

"I'm just-" he struggled with himself. "Do I irritate you? Is that why you're so miserable here?"

"What?" I said confused. "No, well, not entirely. I mean I'm not miserable, but maybe just irritated but not so much at you...more like at myself." I grimaced, hating myself for unthinkably speaking.

He backed away from the wall, moving over to stand in front of the living room window. He exhaled heavily, staring attentively at the rain.

"Do you want to go back to New York?" He remained still, eyes on the rain. "I don't want you to feel forced to stay here."

I jumped out of the couch closing the distance between us, but not completely. "No, I want to stay. I want to help."

He turned abruptly, passing by me, handing me the puke-green jacket and an umbrella. "The rain seems calmer now, we should get you to your house."

He slipped on his coat and waited for me to do the same before leaving. We both took a seat and I watched as he started the car, turning the radio on. I fumbled with my fingers awkwardly, trying to fathom his unusual behavior. I dared to look in his direction, casting him a sideways glance, he concentrated on keeping his gaze focused on the road as he gripped the steering wheel tightly with tension. I whined softly when I felt the unmistakable pain of my headache return.

When we reached the house I was staying in, I swiftly opened the door and let myself out of his car, maneuvering the umbrella promptly above my head.

"Hey," Dean said. "I too wanted to help people, just like you."

"Is this suppose to-"

"Persephone!" I heard someone call from behind me.

Before I had a chance to see who it was, they were already standing by my side. "Persephone, I've been trying to get a hold of you for the longest time," Ethan verbalized with evident concern. "You weren't feeling well last night and it's raining today and I just wanted to make sure you were okay," He paused, trying to catch a glimpse of Dean.

I shut the car door before Ethan could get a full view of Dean, watching as he sped off.

"But, I can see you're doing okay," He added, not even bothering to conceal the slight jealousy intertwined with his words. I had to admit that it was kinda flattering, but at the same time, I wasn't used to these scenarios, so I didn't exactly know what else to make out of it.

I rotated in order to stand in front of Ethan, taking in his disheveled appearance. "You didn't have to come out all the way over here to check up on me, in the midst of all this pouring rain. I appreciate the gesture though, thank you."

"I should probably help you get back inside," He lay his hand on my back, attempting to propel me forward. "All this rain couldn't be any good for you, and you look kinda sick to begin with."

"Gee, thanks."

He held his hand out, silently asking for the keys to the front door. I reached into my back pocket, handing Ethan the keys to the house. As soon as we stepped inside I promptly blocked the rest of the entrance way, not making it too obvious that his presence wasn't all that welcomed right now.

"Like you pointed out earlier, I do feel kinda sick and then with the rain, I don't believe that I would very productive for you guys feeling like this, so...I think I am just going to rest for the remainder of the day. I'll see you tomorrow I guess."

"Are you sure? Because I don't mind looking after you making sure you're okay..." He utters, the gleam in his eyes full of hope.

I shifted a bit in my stance, my breathe caught in my throat and felt a thrashing pain in my chest. I groaned in horror, reliving the memory.

_Flashback_

"Hey." I yelled after him.

"He doesn't know anything." He says, walking in a fast pace to avoid me at all cost.

"You got something you want to say to me? Because if you do, let's hear it."

"Why didn't you shoot Gitano?" He blurted out, demanding to know the reason behind it exactly .

"He was using the child as a shield" I spoke defensively.

"How could you let him get so close to you?"

Disbelief framed my face, I couldn't quite believe what he was saying to me, I thought he'd be more understanding but I guess not. "There were innocent civilians around. I couldn't get a shot."

"Well, he got close and Ryan's dead." He added.

"So this is my fault?"

"No, I can't do this anymore." He spat his words, walking away from me. "I can't be looking over my shoulder making sure you're okay."

_End Flashback_

"I don't need you, or anyone else for that matter-to look after me. I'm more than capable of taking care of myself." I removed the keys from his grip, moving quickly to close the door and shutting him out in the rain, but he stuck his foot in the doorway, pushing the door back with his forearm.

"Just go away and stay out!" I persisted, trying to keep him from coming inside, but it was no use.

"What's wrong with you? What's wrong with me, I did something wrong? I did, didn't I?" He closed the door behind him, standing directly in front of me, shoulders slumped forward with his hands residing in his pockets.

I hung my head low, stung by his belief. I regretted what I had said to him instantaneously, it wasn't his fault. "It's not something you did, it's just..._me_. It has everything to do with me and nothing to do with you. You've been nothing but nice to me since I've been here, and I'm sorry about the way that I have been treating you, you don't deserve it." I added. hoping to repair his hurt feelings.

"If taking out your frustrations on me makes you feel better, then that's okay with me...besides, you look pretty when you're mad," he said.

I open my mouth in dismay, ready to say something, but he continued speaking.

"But I'm guessing you have something else to say to me." He smiled, his smile full of remorse as I just stood there, staring at him. Then he held out his arms for me.

"Ethan," I said while taking his hands in mine tightly. "You must be one of the nicest guys, if not that nicest guy, that I have ever met. And it's because of that that I don't deserve you."

"Okay..." he said, slowly and with apprehension. "Is that why you won't date me...because I am too nice for you. I should have considered that before."

I laughed lightly, hugging him hard. "No, that's not why at all," I took a step back from him to look into his face again. "We're just better as friends. It wouldn't be worth going through the whole relationship process only to find that we were in fact better as friends, especially when all the signs were there to begin with. I mean, it's not like I don't like you, I do-just not in the way that you like me. Are we still even going to be friends?"

"Of course, yes. Oh, sure, absolutely. You shouldn't have to ask."

"Good. Then we'll be good friends." I stopped, looking at him once more. "Now you be honest with me, Ethan, isn't that how you really felt about me as well?"

He looked at me for a second, sighing and then rolling his eyes skyward. "Well, I think I could have been happy with you," He said. As my face fell, he trailed off, "Does it have anything to do with that guy that dropped you off?"

"Wouldn't you rather _know_ that you could be happy with me rather than just _think _you could be happy with me?" I concluded, before quickly adding, "No. He and I, well, I wouldn't even call us friends just yet."

"I suppose you're right. And about that guy, do you want to, and more than friends that is. On second thought, just don't answer that." He put and arm around me and gently turned me in the direction of the bedroom. "Come on, let's get you in bed, you still look just as sick." He chuckled as I punched him lightly in the stomach.

He left me in the room to change into a different set of clothes while he went downstairs for some aspirin and water. After I convinced him that I would survive to see the wake of the next day, he left me alone to rest, I just hadn't realized how much time I had taken to rest for the duration of the day.

I yawned as I rubbed my eyes, ridding them of the morning eye scum. I groaned, falling back on the bed, obstructing my view with the covers as sunlight creeps in between the curtains. I lose the sheets there's no time for sleep. I lie, I pretend 'til I'm almost certain...it's a beautiful world.


End file.
